II    - 


PLAIN- 
TOWNS 


ITALY 


EGERTON'R-  WILLIAMS  -JR. 


^ 


35p  ©prion  K.  Williame,  3fr. 


PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY:  THE  CITIES 
OF  OLD  VENETIA.     Fully  Illustrated. 

HILL  TOWNS  OF  ITALY.  Fully  Illus- 
trated. 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
Boston  and  New  York 


PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 


UDIXE.     1'IAZZA   VI 


Kin    KM  AM    I   I   I 


PLAIN-TOAVNS  OF  ITALY 

Clje  Cities  of  ®lt>  Ttftnttia 

BY 

EGERTON  R.  WILLIAMS,  Jr. 

Author  of  "  Hill-Towns  of  Italy,"  "  Ridolfo,"  etc. 


ILLUSTRATED   FROM 
PHOTOGRAPHS 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

The  tfit>cr*iDc  prcO  <CambriD(je 
1911 


COPYRIGHT,    lull,    BY    KGEKTON    R.    WILLIAMS,  JR. 
ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED 

Published  October  tqu 


-? 


To 

the  truest,  most  faithful,  and  most  reliable  of  friends 

Ernest  Boyd  Millard 

whose  lifelong  constancy  and  sterling  character  have  pre- 
served in  the  oft  clouded  heavens  a  circle  of  brightness  that 
has  never  narroived,  this  work  is  dedicated  as  a  slight  ynark 
of  the  affectionate  gratitude  and  esteem  for  which  I  can  find 
no  adequate  expression. 


Oh!  land,  to  mem'ry  and  to  freedom  dear, 
Land  of  the  melting  lyre  and  conqu'ring  spear, 
Land  of  the  vine-clad  hill,  the  fragrant  grove, 
Of  arts  and  arms,  of  genius  and  of  love, 
Hear,  fairest  Italy !  Though  now  no  more 
Thy  glitt'ring  eagles  awe  th'  Atlantic  shore, 
Nor  at  thy  feet  the  gorgeous  Orient  flings 
The  blood -bought  treasures  of  her  tawny  kings; 
Though  vanished  all  that  formed  thine  old  renown, 
The  laurel  garland,  and  the  jewelled  crown, 
Th'  avenging  poniard,  the  victorious  sword, 
Which  reared  thine  empire,  or  thy  rights  restored; 
Yet  still  the  constant  Muses  haunt  thy  shore, 
And  love  to  linger  where  they  dwelt  of  yore. 

Macaulay. 


PREFACE 

The  issuance  of  this  volume,  designed  as  a  companion 
book  to  the  Hill-Towns  of  Italy,  marks  the  second 
step  in  the  execution  of  a  project  which  was  conceived 
at  the  time  of  the  latter's  production;  and  which  was 
confirmed  in  my  mind  by  the  kind  reception  accorded 
the  Hill-Towns  by  the  public.  Eight  years,  it  is  true, 
have  since  passed;  but  it  was  not  until  four  years  ago, 
on  laying  aside  all  other  business  and  coming  to  Italy 
to  dwell,  that  I  was  able  at  last  to  devote  myself  to 
the  preparation  of  this  work,  —  a  work  exceedingly 
more  laborious  than  the  former,  and  requiring  far  more 
time  for  its  due  completion,  both  from  the  nature  of 
the  ground  it  covers  and  from  the  wider  scope  which 
I  have  endeavored  to  give  it,  but,  like  the  former,  a 
work  of  love. 

From  the  hill-towns  of  central  Italy  I  turned  by 
contrast  to  the  great  northern  plain,  seeking,  as  I  had 
done  with  the  mountain-regions,  that  section  of  it 
which  is  most  filled  with  interest  of  every  kind.  Such 
is  the  province  of  Venetia.  It  is  a  daring  thing,  I  know, 
to  offer  at  this  day  a  book  dealing  with  cities  so  oft 
written  about  as  Padua  and  Verona,  each  of  which, 
also,  requires  and  has  received  a  full  volume  for  its 
entire  elucidation.  They  are,  however,  but  a  small 
though  necessary  part  of  this  work;  which  endeavors 
to  be  an  exposition  of  the  whole  region  of  old  Venetia, 
94  t  ting  forth  all  its  towns  and  countryside  worth  visit- 
ing, in  the  realms  of  history,  art,  and  natural  beauty, 
including  the  varied  peoples  and  their  ways,  with  re- 
ferences  to  a  good  part  of  the  authorities  who  have  at 


x  PREFACE 

any  t  ime  writ  ton  upon  those  subjects;  taking  the  reader 
with  me  as  a  companion  in  my  wanderings,  from  day 
to  day. 

Most  of  the  towns  covered  —  especially  in  the  dis- 
tricts of  the  Folesine,  the  Trevisan  Marches,  and  Fri- 
nli,  more  than  half  of  the  total  number  —  have  been 
very  little  and  but  casually  written  about  in  our 
language,  some  of  them  not  at  all;  while  in  the  case  of 
t  he  larger  cities,  their  political  and  artistic  history  and 
associations  had  to  be  collated  from  a  large  number 
of  different  sources.  Thus  the  field  which  I  have  aimed 
a  t  has  not  hitherto  been  occupied :  the  gathering  within 
one  cover  of  all  that  information  and  description 
which  may  enable  the  fireside  reader  to  see  the  whole 
of  the  lovely  Veneto  through  my  eyes,  and  which  may 
at  the  same  time  act  as  a  helpful  guide  to  the  hurried 
traveler.  Whether  I  have  succeeded  in  this  aim,  it 
remains  for  the  reader  to  decide. 

Venetia  should  be  visited  and  read  about,  for  the 
same  reasons  that  make  it  the  most  beautiful  and 
fascinating  section  of  that  wondrous  plain,  for  which 
the  nations  of  man  have  struggled  and  bled  since  the 
dawn  of  civilization.  The  story  of  the  Veneto  surpasses 
in  interest  and  significance  even  that  of  Lombardy  or 
Emilia,  and  cannot  be  too  closely  grasped  by  him  who 
would  know  the  gradations  of  human  progress.  Its 
towns  are  deathless  monuments  on  the  advancing 
path  of  human  culture,  liberty,  and  the  science  of  free 
government. 

I  nder  the  Romans,  mighty  Padua  was  the  third 
city  of  the  Empire,  —  following  only  upon  Rome  and 
Cadi/:  Verona  and  Brescia  were  also  centres  of  the 
fir>t  magnitude,  and  Cividale  and  Aquileia  were  the 
guardians  of  the  frontier;  for  from  Padua  to  the  latter 
inarched  the  great  highway  to  the  Orient,  and  from 


PREFACE  xi 

Verona  and  her  neighbor  led  the  teeming  arteries  of 
commerce  across  the  Alps.  Under  the  Goths,  Odoacer, 
Theodoric,  and  their  successors  held  royal  sway  upon 
the  Adige,  where  Alboin  subsequently  ruled  his  Lom- 
bards, and  fell  by  the  assassins'  steel.  In  fact,  with 
the  fall  of  Rome  the  fount  and  centre  of  Italian  power 
shifted  to  the  northern  plain,  to  its  industrious  cities, 
who  conserved  within  their  walls  all  that  remained 
of  Roman  knowledge,  law,  and  customs,  commingling 
not  with  the  barbarians,  preserving  the  freedom  and 
handicrafts  of  their  citizens,  asserting  through  the 
dark  ages  the  individualities  and  the  rights  of  Roman 
municipalities,  uniting  in  the  glorious  Lombard 
League  to  shake  from  their  land  the  oppressive  rule  of 
the  foreign  emperors,  —  until  they  burst  from  the 
long  shadow  as  the  leaders  and  propagators,  with 
Florence,  of  the  rising  Renaissance. 

Nothing  is  more  inspiring  than  the  annals  of  Padua, 
Verona,  Brescia,  and  Vicenza  in  those  four  hundred 
years  succeeding  the  end  of  barbaric  rule,  from  the 
loosening  of  the  Frankish  grip  to  the  middle  of  the  thir- 
teenth century,  when  as  indomitable  little  republics, 
fighting  off  the  pretensions  of  Pope  and  Emperor, 
advancing  steadily  the  causes  of  human  knowledge, 
civilization,  and  free  government,  while  London  and 
Paris  lay  still  in  the  mire  of  savagery,  they  embellished 
their  paved  piazzas  with  those  marvelous  series  of 
churches  and  civic  buildings,  constructed  with  an  art 
drawn  from  their  own  untutored  minds  and  expressing 
their  own  vivid  individualities,  which  still  demon- 
strate to  our  wondering  eyes  how  lightly  upon  them 
lay  that  shadow  of  I  he  Middle  Age!  Then  was  founded 
that  great  university  which  drew  its  scholars  by  the 
thousands  from  every  country  on  the  globe,  which  for 
centuries   placed   Padua   far   in   the   van   of   human 


xii  PREFACE 

thought  and  progress,  and  disseminated  her  culture 
through  the  barbaric  nations  of  the  north.  Followed 
at  a  distance  by  the  institutions  of  Verona  and  Vicenza, 
it  led  the  way  from  mental  obscurity  into  the  bright 
fields  of  Humanism. 

In  the  succeeding  era  of  the  despots,  the  Veneto 
maintained  its  leading  position.  In  the  Polesine  it 
produced  that  resplendent  race  of  tyrants,  the  oldest 
and  most  cultured  of  all,  who  from  their  conquest  of 
that  district  descended  upon  Ferrara,  Modena,  and 
Reggio,  placing  the  proud  name  of  Este  amongst  the 
antecedents  of  all  royal  lines.  From  the  Trevisan 
Marches  appeared  that  most  famous  and  powerful  of 
early  despots,  Ezzelino  da  Romano,  who  reduced  the 
whole  province  beneath  his  bloody  yoke,  and  has  left 
in  many  a  town  his  still  visible  and  fearful  imprint. 
The  subsequent  Delia  Carrara  of  Padua,  and  Delia 
Seal  a  of  Verona,  stood  foremost  among  the  tyrants 
of  the  dawning  Renaissance,  illustrious  for  their  con- 
quests as  for  their  patronage  of  science,  literature, 
and  the  arts,  and  they  began  the  remodeling  of  their 
subject  cities  on  the  alluring  lines  of  to-day.  After 
them  came  the  mightier  power  which  caused  their  fall, 
the  great  Republic  that  stretched  her  resistless  arms 
slowly  over  the  whole  eastern  plain,  endowing  it  for 
all  time  with  the  lustre  of  her  name.  Venice  brought 
to  the  long  battling  cities  peace,  order,  prosperity, 
and  a  benevolent,  paternal  rule  that  caused  them  to 
hap  forward  in  the  onrush  of  the  Renaissance,  and 
develop  those  magnificent  schools  of  painting,  sculpt- 
ure, and  architecture  which  made  Venetia  the  jewel  - 
casket  of  Italy. 

Thus  was  inaugurated  that  wonder-working  era 
which  crowned  the  Veneto's  historical  importance 
with  a  beauty  that  is  possessed  by  no  other  province, 


PREFACE  xiii 

that  spread  through  every  town  and  hamlet,  and  was 
Ibound  into  all  the  circumstances  of  their  lives.  Venice 
became  the  adored  ideal  of  her  emulative  subjects. 
Vicenza's  grand  school  of  architecture,  led  by  the  im- 
mortal Palladio,  Scamozzi,  and  Calderari,  united  with 
the  great  Sammicheli  of  Verona,  and  with  Sansovino, 
Coducci,  and  the  other  builders  of  the  Sea  Queen,  in 
remoulding  the  Veneto  cities  into  a  lustrous  semblance 
of  their  suzerain.  In  his  home  town  Palladio  erected 
that  marvelous  Basilica  which  was  the  chef  d'ceuvre 
of  the  Renaissance.  Over  the  field  of  sculpture  pre- 
sided the  royal  genius  of  Donatello,  from  the  crown 
of  his  glittering  masterpieces  at  S.  Antonio  of  Padua; 
and  his  brilliant  followers,  Rizzo,  Leopardi,  and  the 
Lombardi,  joined  with  Riccio,  Sansovino,  and  the 
latter's  disciples,  in  the  splendid  adornment  of  the 
Veneto's  churches  and  piazzas. 

•  In  the  field  of  painting  the  province  rose  still  more 
supreme.  Cultured  Padua  had  led  the  way  at  the 
beginning  of  the  trecento  by  calling  to  her  Giotto  him- 
self, who  left  his  imperishable  masterpieces  upon  the 
walls  of  her  Church  of  the  Arena;  and  Verona  had 
followed  by  producing  that  astonishing  pair  of  artists, 
Altichieri  and  d'Avanzo,  whose  works  in  Padua  prove 
them  to  have  been  Giotto's  greatest  successors  of  the 
century.  The  quattrocento  saw  initiated  in  that  same 
city  the  momentous  school  of  Squarcione,  from  whose 
portals  emerged  the  leading  genius  of  the  new  age, 
Andrea  Mantegna;  and  the  contemporary  school  of 
Verona  soared  by  the  early  cinquecento  into  such  a 
brilliancy,  glowing  with  the  gorgeous  canvases  of 
Liberale,  dai  Libri,  Caroto,  the  Morone,  Cavaz- 
zola,  and  a  do/en  other  renowned  masters,  that  no 
one  who  has  failed  to  study  them  can  know  the  full 
achievements  of  Italian  art.    At  Vicenza  labored  the 


mv  PREFACE 

refulgent  Montagna  and  Buonconsiglio;  at  Castel- 
franco,  the  superb  Giorgione  and  his  pupils;  at  Bas- 
siiM,  the  famous  family  of  the  Da  Pontc.  Brescia's 
school  reached  its  apogee  in  the  lustrous  works  of 
Moretto  and  Romanino.  To  the  woods  of  Friuli  the 
eyes  of  the  world  were  drawn  by  the  exploits  of  Por- 
denone,  Pellegrino  da  S.  Daniele,  Giovanni  da  Udine, 
and  others.  To  the  masterpieces  of  all  these  schools 
and  artists  of  the  first  rank,  scattered  sparkling 
throughout  the  towns  and  villages  of  the  plain,  were 
added  those  of  the  mighty  Venetian  masters,  —  from 
the  Bellini  to  Palma  Vecchio,  from  Tiziano  to  Tiepolo. 
Such  is  the  feast  of  loveliness  which  the  province 
offers  to  the  traveler,  and  which  it  has  been  my 
pleasant  duty  to  set  forth  in  these  pages.  Accuracy 
I  have  striven  to  maintain,  without  diffuseness  or  un- 
necessary detail,  repeating  only  so  much  of  the  history 
and  distinctive  traits  of  each  school  and  master,  giving 
only  so  much  description  of  the  leading  works,  as  may 
enable  the  reader  to  grasp  their  true  significance  and 
beauty.  "He  who  would  comprehend  the  Italians 
of  the  Renaissance,"  said  Symonds,  "must  study  their 
art.  .  .  .  Not  only  is  painting  the  art  in  which  Italians, 
among  all  the  nations  of  the  world,  stand  unapproach- 
ably alone,  but  it  is  also  the  one  that  best  enables  us 
to  gauge  their  genius  at  the  time  when  they  impressed 
their  culture  on  the  rest  of  Europe.  In  the  history  of 
the  Italian  intellect,  painting  takes  the  same  rank  as 
that  of  sculpture  in  Greece."  —  It  may  be  that  I 
should  apologize  for  intruding  the  lists  of  the  principal 
works  in  the  great  galleries  of  Padua,  Vicenza,  Ve- 
rona, and  Brescia;  but  the  stay-at-home  reader  can 
easily  skip  those  paragraphs,  and  to  the  others  they 
will  afford  an  enlightening  conception  of  the  delights 
offered  by  those  respective  cities. 


PREFACE  xv 

Fascinating,  however,  as  are  the  countless  artistic 
masterpieces  and  the  picturesque  architectural  dress 
of  these  towns  of  the  Veneto,  interesting  as  are  their 
historical  and  literary  relics  and  associations,  there  is 
still  more  to  interest  the  stranger,  in  the  natural 
scenery  of  their  settings  and  countrysides,  and  the 
marked  diversity  of  their  appearance,  customs,  and 
inhabitants.  Let  no  one  associate  them,  because  they 
are  plain-towns,  with  the  ideas  of  sameness  or  mono- 
tony. The  plain  of  the  Veneto  is  so  narrowed  between 
the  Alps  and  the  sea  that  the  serrated  mountain-ridges 
ever  loom  vast  and  grim  before  the  eyes,  fancifully 
backgrounding  the  towered  city,  or  the  rich  cham- 
paign, dotted  with  glistening  Venetian  villas  and  om- 
nipresent campanili;  while  to  the  west  of  Padua  the 
landscape  is  further  beautified  by  the  far-seen  chains 
of  the  Euganean  and  Berici  Hills.  Every  district  has  its 
distinctive  natural  characteristics  and  charm,  —  from 
the  Veronese  with  its  battlemented  medieval  strong- 
holds, the  Polesine  with  its  numerous  little  walled 
cities  at  the  feet  of  the  Euganei,  and  the  Trevisan 
Marches  with  their  mighty  rivers  and  high-perched 
castles,  to  strange  Friuli  with  its  dark  blanket  of  for- 
est. The  towns  themselves  display  marked  divers- 
ities, in  their  picturesque  piazzas  dominated  by  grand 
old  churches  and  palaces,  their  looming  medieval 
towers,  their  neighboring  mountain-summits,  and  the 
generally  present  castle  of  the  bygone  signori,  glower- 
ing down  from  its  adjacent  eminence. 

Among  all  those  cities  that  owned  the  sovereignty  of 
Venice,  two  only  are  left  without  these  pages :  Bergamo 
and  Crema  were  for  a  time  Venetian,  it  is  true,  but  are 
omit  led  because  they  were  much  more  identified  with 
Lombardy,  of  which  province  they  form  integral  parts, 
being  but  a  few  miles  distant  from,  and  long  governed 


\Yl 


rilEFACE 


by,  its  capital,  Milan,  whose  shadow  has  lain  upon 
them  all  the  centuries.  They  would  properly,  there- 
fore, take  their  places,  and  I  hope  will  at  some  future 
date,  in  a  volume  dealing  with  that  region  of  the 
Sforeas  and  the  \ "iseonti;  which  would  also  include 
captivating  Cremona,  and  the  glorious  Mantua  of 
the  princely  Gonzaghi. 

The  nut  raveled  reader  may  wonder,  though  the 
voyageur  will  not,  why  I  have  taken  pains  to  mention 
the  names  and  qualities  of  many  of  the  inns  that  enter- 
tained me  upon  these  sojourns.  But  it  is  unquestion- 
able that  there  is  no  one  piece  of  information  so  valu- 
able to  the  success  and  comfort  of  a  traveler,  and  so 
eagerly  sought  for  from  his  confreres,  as  judgment 
founded  upon  personal  experience  of  the  hotels  in  a 
district  or  city  to  which  he  may  at  any  future  date 
pay  a  visit.  At  the  risk,  therefore,  of  criticism  from  the 
few  who  are  inclined  to  seek  for  base  motives,  but  in 
order  to  be  of  assistance  to  those  who  will  yet  travel 
through  Venetia,  I  have  given  the  names  and  good 
points  of  the  hostelries  that  afforded  me  comfort  and 
fair  service,  without  any  knowledge  of  the  errand 
upon  which  I  was  bound.  Even  in  the  smallest  places, 
nearly  everywhere  through  the  Veneto,  good  treat- 
ment can  be  obtained  for  the  traveler  who  is  willing 
to  put  up  with  simplicity  and  eat  in  the  Italian  mode; 
it  is  only  a  question  of  knowing  which  albergo  to 
repair  to,  —  as  it  is  of  knowing  which  hotel  among  the 
many  in  the  larger  cities. 

If  my  descriptions  of  the  design  of  the  larger  towns 
be  supplemented  by  the  purchase  of  the  cheap  local 
maps,  or  by  references  to  the  fine  plans  contained  in 
Baedeker's  Northern  Italy,  the  reader  will  follow 
my  movements  and  observations  with  greater  clear- 
ness, and  the  visitor  upon  the  spot  will  have  the  pleas- 


PREFACE  xvii 

ure  of  hunting  out  for  himself  every  object  worth 
seeing,  without  the  objectionable  aid  of  native  guides. 
The  Baedeker's  possession  is  advisable,  of  course,  for 
more  reasons  than  this ;  since  the  present  volume  is  not 
adaptable  to  usurp  all  its  functions  as  a  guidebook, 
but  rather  to  supplement  its  very  condensed  and  lim- 
ited information,  —  not  only  in  the  way  of  omissions, 
but  particularly  in  the  various  realms  that  it  has  no 
space  to  enter. 

My  thanks  are  due  to  the  excellent  Commendatore 
Alinari,  for  the  kind  permission  which  enables  me 
properly  to  illustrate  this  book.  Some  of  the  districts, 
however,  —  the  Polesine,  Trevisan  Marches,  and 
most  of  Friuli,  —  have  been  photographed  still  less 
than  they  have  been  described;  and  there  it  was  neces- 
sary to  take  some  views  of  my  own,  as  best  I  could 
with  the  poor  film  furnished  in  Italy.  My  thanks  are 
due  also  to  a  number  of  local  savants  and  connoisseurs, 
besides  those  herein  mentioned,  who  drew  for  my 
assistance  upon  their  accumulated  stores  of  art-know- 
ledge and  archaeology. 

Above  all,  I  acknowledge  with  a  full  heart  my  deep 
indebtedness  to  the  wife  whose  enthusiasm  first  in- 
spired, then  supported  me  in  the  heavy  task,  during 
these  three  years  of  continuous  study,  travel,  and  la- 
bor; without  whose  inestimable  aid  in  the  researching 
and  annotation  of  hundreds  of  volumes,  the  word 
"Finis"  would  probably  never  have  been  written. 

E.  R.  W. 

Venice,  July  1,  1911. 


CONTENTS 

I.  THE  BRENTA  AND  THE  PALACE  OF  STRA   .        .      3 
II.  PADUA  THE  LEARNED 28 

III.  PADUA  AND   S.   ANTONIO 62 

IV.  VICEXZA  THE  PALATIAL 97 

V.  BASSANO,   CITTADELLA,  AND  CASTELFRANCO      .  138 

VI.  TREVISO  AND  THE  VILLA  GIACOMELLI      .        .      177 

VII.  FROM  TREVISO  TO   UDINE 224 

VIII.    UDIXE  AND   CIVIDALE 271 

IX.  VERONA  LA   DEGNA 322 

X.  VERONA  LA   MARMORINA 351 

XL  BRESCIA  THE  BRAVE 418 

XII.   BRESCIA  LA  FERREA 454 

XIII.  MONTAGNANA,  ESTE,  AND   MONSELICE  .        .  497 

XIV.  ROVIGO,   ARQUA.  AND  BATTAGLIA         .        .        .      540 
INDEX 589 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Udine.  Piazza  Vittorio  Emanuele     ....  Frontispiece 

Map 3 

Stra.    The  Royal  Villa         8 

Stra.   The  Grand  Hall,  Royal  Villa 2-1 

Padua.   Basilica  of  San  Antonio,  with  the  Statue  of 

Gattamelata.     (Donatello) 40 

Padua.   Bas  Relief,   St.   Anthony    recalling  to   Life 

a   Youth   to   prove    the  Innocence  of   his   Father. 

(G.  Campagna) 56 

Padua.  Altar  with  Bronzes.  (Donatello)  ...  72 
Vicenza.  Palazzo  della  Ragione.  (Palladio)  ...  98 
Vicenza.    Madonna  and  Saints,  in  the  Church  of  San 

Stefano.    (Palma  Vecchio) 104 

Vicenza.    Garden  of  Palazzo  Quirini 112 

Vicenza.  Baptism  of  Christ,  in  the  Church  of  S.  Corona. 

(Giovanni  Bellini) 120 

Vicenza.  Palazzo  da  Schio,  formerly  known  as  the  Casa 

Aurea  or  Ca  d'  Oro  (The  Golden  House)  .  .  .128 
Vicenza.    Villa  Rotonda  by  Palladio  and  Scamozzi      .  136 

Vicenza.    Public  Museum 130 

Varksk.    General  View  of  the  Monte  Sacro    .      .      .  138 


wii  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Vabxbb.    Chubch  of  Santa  Makia  del  Monte  and  toe 

Labi  Chato 142 

Babbano.  The  River  Brenta  with  the  Wooden  Bridge  146 
Babbano.     Piazza   Vittorio  Emanuele  and  Church  of 

St.  John  Baptist 146 

Bassano.    The  City  Wall 150 

*Bab8ANO.    The  Western  River  Bank 154 

Mabostica.  View  of  Ancient  Walls  and  Castle  .  .  158 
(ii  iauella.  The  Bassano  Gate  and  View  of  the  Walls  162 
Castelfranco.    Remains    of  the   Old    Castle    of    the 

Twelfth  Century  166 

Castelfranco.     Madonna     and     Child     with     Saints. 

(Giorgione) 170 

conegliano.   gateway  to  old  town.  —  castle  hlll  in 

Background 194 

Tbevxbo.    Piazza  dei  Signori 194 

Treviso.    Annunciation.   (Tiziano) 208 

*Maseb.    Villa  Giacomelli.    Central  Pavilion       .      .  214 

M  vsbb.    Villa  Giacomelli.    Entrance,  with  Fountain 
and  Little  Temple 214 

Mabbb.    Villa  Giacomelli.    Detail  of  Wall.    (Paolo 
Veronese) 220 

Udtke.     Palazzo  Comunale.    Town  Hall  —  Fifteenth 

and  Sixteenth  Centuries 234 

Cividale.  San  Peltrudis.  Early  Lombard  Sculptures  274 
Vebona.    Old  Castle  Bridge 326 


ILLUSTRATIONS  xxiii 

Veroxa.  CHrRCH  of  Santa  Marl*,  w  Organo  (St.  Mary's 

of  the  Organ) 326 

Verona.    The  River  Adige  from  the  Ponte  Navi  .       .  340 

Verona.    Church  of  St.  Anastasia 350 

Verona.   The  Virgin  and  Child  Enthroned.    (Girolamo 

dai  Libri) 366 

Verona.     Altar    Triptych    in    Church    of    San    Zeno 

Maggiore.    (Andrea  Mantegna) 380 

Verona.  Tomb  of  Romeo  and  Juliet 394 

Verona.    View  in  the  Giusti  Gardens 406 

Soave.  The  Castle  and  Wall,  looking  Northward  .  414 
Brescia.  Palazzo  Municipale.  (Fromentone  da  Brescia)  440 
Brescia.   The  Cross  of  St.  Helena.    (In  the  Museum  of 

Christian  Art) 490 

Battagllv.    A  Farm  on  the  Canal 540 

Battaglia.  The  Castle  of  St.  Helena  ....  548 
Near  Battaglia.  The  Castle  of  Cattajo  with  Moat  and 

Bridge 558 

Arqca.    A  Peasant's  House 568 

Arqua.  Parish  Church  and  Petrarch's  Tomb  .  .  .  568 
Arqua.  The  House  of  Petrarch 582 


The  reproductions  markBd  with  an  asterisk  (*)  are  from  photographs 
by  the  author.  All  others  are  by  FrateDi  Alinari,  Florence,  and  are  used 
by  tln-ir  courteous  permission. 


PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 


PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   BRENTA   AND    THE    PALACE    OF    STRA 

Once  did  she  hold  the  gorgeous  East  in  fee, 
And  was  the  safeguard  of  the  West;  the  worth 
Of  Venice  did  not  fall  below  her  birth,  — 
Venice,  the  eldest  child  of  Liberty.  — 
And  what  if  she  has  seen  those  glories  fade, 
Those  titles  vanish,  and  that  strength  decay; 
Yet  shall  some  tribute  of  respect  be  paid 
When  her  long  life  has  reached  its  final  day. 

—  Wordsworth. 

The  steamer  was  pushing  her  prow  swiftly  through 
the  still,  wide  waters  of  the  Lagoon,  as  we  sat  upon  her 
after-deck  looking  backward  at  the  receding  domes 
and  towers  of  Venice.  Over  the  blue,  mirroring  ex- 
panse they  rose,  more  dimly  now,  arched  gloriously  by 
the  still  bluer  dome  of  the  Italian  sky.  For  months 
we  had  been  living  amongst  them,  living  over  again 
their  wonderful  bygone  centuries  of  strife  and  tri- 
umph: from  the  ruins  of  Torcello  we  had  watched  in 
fancy  the  Queen  of  the  Sea  once  again  build  herself 
from  out  that  primitive  confederation  of  lagoon-girt 
isles,  whose  capital  shifted  from  one  beach  to  another, 
until  it  eame  at  last  from  Malamocco  to  rest  upon  that 
Rivo  Alto  which  centres  the  Venice  of  to-day;  with 
Retro  Orseolo  the  Great  we  had  sailed  in  her  first 
grand  fleet  of  warships,  to  impose  the  rule  of  the  Re- 
public upon  the  shores  of  the  Adriatic;  with  Domenico 
Michiel  we  had  crested  the  Mediterranean  to  relieve 


t  PLAIN  TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

the  Christian  Kingdom  of  Jerusalem  from  assailing 
heathen,  conquer  the  beautiful  isles  of  the  Levant,  and 
carry  borne  saintly  bodies  from  violated  sepulehres; 
with  Enrico  Dandolo  we  had  accompanied  the  Cru- 
saders  to  Zara  and  the  capture  of  Constantinople, 
and  seen  the  sway  of  Venice  extend  from  that  wealthy 
capital  over  a  hundred  fair  cities  of  the  Orient;  with 
Michele  Steno  we  had  watched  the  Mistress  of  the 
Sea  turn  at  last  from  her  own  domain  and  begin  the 
subjugation  of  the  Italian  mainland;  we  had  wondered 
as  Padua  fell  into  her  powrer,  despoiled  of  the  princely 
Delia  Carrara,  and  Yicenza  and  Verona,  from  the 
kingdom  of  the  ruined  Scaligers,  then  Brescia  and 
Bergamo,  from  the  falling  Visconti,  and  Rovigo  and 
Adria  from  the  enfeebled  Estensi,  —  until  that  beau- 
tiful rich  territory  thenceforth  known  as  the  Veneto, 
bore  the  winged  lion  of  St.  Mark  from  the  Adda  on  the 
west  and  the  Po  on  the  south,  to  Aquileia  and  Udine 
in  the  far  northeast. 

We  had  seen  in  these  memories  the  Turk  come  to 
Constantinople,  and  despoil  Venice  one  by  one  of  her 
possessions  over  the  sea;  but  only  more  firmly  had  she 
held  to  that  fair  kingdom  of  North  Italy,  attaching 
the  people  to  her  by  gifts  of  public  freedom  and  bene- 
volence, and  the  adornment  of  their  towns,  until  not 
even  all  the  great  powers  of  Europe,  leagued  against 
her  by  the  Pact  of  Cambrai,  could  sever  those  cities 
from  t  heir  willing  allegiance.  Unto  the  end  brought  by 
the  French  Revolution  three  centuries  later,  they  re- 
mained to  Venice,  the  last  but  richest  product  of  all 
her  conquests,  when  all  the  others  had  departed. 

Then  it  was,  while  the  League  of  Cambrai  assailed, 
while  the  Turk  was  despoiling  Venice  over-sea,  and 
the  Veneto  alone  remained  true  to  her,  that  in  the 
decline  of  her  physical  power  there  had  blossomed 


THE  BRENTA  5 

forth  like  a  wondrous  orchid  her  aesthetic  culture  of 
the  Renaissance.  We  had  seen  the  Bellini  bringing 
to  perfection  their  marvelous  canvases,  and  the  still 
greater  school  developing  with  Giorgione,  Titian,  and 
Jacopo  Palma  the  elder,  in  a  marble  city  now  re- 
splendent with  bright  frescoes  on  every  house  fagade, 
with  beautified  interiors  luxuriant  in  her  own  fine 
sculpture  and  glassware,  and  the  cloths  and  precious 
ornaments  of  the  East. 

Then  it  was,  too,  that  with  that  sudden  keen  appre- 
ciation of  the  beautiful,  and  great  increase  of  luxury, 
we  had  seen  the  whole  external  life  of  Venice  alter, 
and  her  nobles  turn  from  their  commercial  strife 
of  centuries  to  the  ownership  of  landed  estates.  The 
city  had  lost  her  commercial  primacy  with  the  dis- 
covery of  the  new  route  to  India  around  the  Cape; 
trading  became  neither  lucrative  nor  fashionable; 
and  we  had  watched  the  famous  old  houses  one  by  one 
turn  sadly  to  the  Veneto,  and  invest  their  remaining 
wealth  in  lands  and  country  villas.  We  had  seen  the 
territory  of  Padua,  the  whole  eastern  Veneto  to  the 
foothills  of  the  Alps,  become  filled  with  the  nobles' 
wide-spreading  estates,  and  dotted  from  end  to  end 
with  their  Renaissance  chateaux,  in  which  they  passed 
the  summers  and  autumns  in  villeggiatura. 

Thus  had  a  new  fashionable  existence  arisen;  and 
the  inevitable  rivalry  for  the  possession  of  the  fairest 
villas  increased  amongst  the  patricians,  until  many 
families  actually  beggared  themselves  in  building  and 
entertaining  beyond  their  means.  It  was  a  curious 
corner  of  history  and  architecture,  about  which  many 
people  know  little  or  nothing,  —  this  strange  trans- 
ference of  I  lie  Venetian  nobles  to  the  mainland  in  the 
sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries.  It  had  hap- 
pened to  strike  my  interest  exceptionally,  in  descend- 


(j  PLAIN    TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

ing  the  eras  of  Venetian  history,  —  and  it  was  the 
reason  w  by  we  were  now  en  rot/aye  to  the  mouth  of  the 
river  Brenta. 

Four  days  before  our  departure  we  had  been  wan- 
dering  through  the  mazes  of  the  extensive  Museo 
Civico,  in  its  beautiful  modern-romanesque  palace 
near  the  head  of  the  Grand  Canal;  and  in  a  little  room 
on  the  top  floor,  not  always  visited,  we  had  come  upon 
an  extraordinary,  perfect  model  of  a  giant  villa  of  the 
Renaissance.  It  was  the  actual  building-model  of 
the  great  chateau  erected  in  those  days  of  rivalry  by 
the  Pisani  family,  on  the  banks  of  the  Brenta,  —  the 
so-called  Palace  of  Stra.  As  we  gazed  upon  its  pro- 
totype in  miniature,  I  could  well  understand  how  it 
came  to  eclipse  all  other  patrician  villas,  —  to  such 
an  extent  that  no  attempt  was  ever  made  to  surpass  it. 
Looking  at  its  vast  extent  of  halls,  courts,  corridors, 
and  suites,  imperial  in  space  and  number,  our  minds 
actually  failed  to  comprehend  how  a  single  private 
family  could  have  accomplished  it.  Nothing  better 
exemplifies  the  hugeness  of  those  bygone  fortunes  of 
Venetian  nobles;  but,  gazing  at  it,  we  longed  to  see 
the  structure  itself. 

The  Brenta  became  naturally  the  first  seat  of  the 
patricians'  country-houses,  since  it  is  the  stream 
nearest  to  Venice;  upon  and  along  it  ran  always  the 
highway  to  Padua  and  the  west,  before  the  Austrians 
constructed  the  modern  railway-bridge.  It  flows  a 
little  to  the  north  of  Padua,  and  thence  easterly  into 
the  Lagoon  at  Fusina,  some  four  miles  south  of  the 
present  railroad.  It  was  inevitable  that  in  former  days 
the  firsl  and  chief  line  of  noble  villas  should  arise 
along  this  watery  highway;  and  there  the  Pisani 
erected  their  palace.  Communication  along  the  an- 
cient  route  is  still  maintained,  by  a  small  steamer  from 


THE  BRENTA  7 

the  Piazzetta  to  Fusina,  and  an  electric  tramway 
thence  upon  the  old  highroad  to  Padua.  I  had  never 
thought  of  pursuing  this  route  before;  but  it  would 
be  a  new  and  pleasant  way  of  reaching  Padua. 

In  going  to  the  latter  city  I  was  but  starting  upon 
the  execution  of  a  plan  I  had  had  in  mind  for  years, 
and  for  which  the  visit  to  Stra  was  an  appropriate 
opening.  For  years  I  had  thought  of  some  day 
traveling  through  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  great 
northern  plain  of  Italy,  —  that  richest  section  of  the 
inhabited  world,  for  which  nations  have  fought  since 
time  immemorial,  —  and  inspecting  carefully  one  by 
one  its  many  illustrious  cities,  which  heretofore  I  had 
seen  but  hurriedly.  During  our  stay  in  Venice,  and 
our  living  over  again  her  centuries  of  glory,  this  de- 
sire had  crystallized  into  the  first  aim  of  visiting  that 
hinterland,  fairest  and  chief  portion  of  the  Lombard 
Plain,  which  the  Republic  had  so  forcefully  made  her 
own,  and  beautified  with  her  wealth  and  genius.  So 
the  spring  had  passed,  the  summer  had  come  with  its 
flooding  golden  light,  and  I  was  on  my  way  at  last  to 
the  Veneto.  What  more  fitting,  I  thought,  than  that 
I  should  first  observe  the  scenes  of  the  Sea  Queen's 
primal  conquests  on  the  mainland,  follow  her  historic 
highway  of  so  many  generations,  and  view  the  landed 
estates  and  villas  to  which  her  patricians  first  re- 
moved. Then  would  come  Padua,  appropriately,  the 
first  prominent  city  to  fall  to  her  victorious  arms. 

It  was  a  beautiful  July  day.  We  were  happy  with 
anticipations  and  the  lovely  scenes  about  us,  while 
the  steamer  moved  evenly,  silently,  through  the  still 
water.  Gazing  at  those  white  domes  and  campanili, 
ever  needing,  sinking,  our  thoughts  had  been  coursing 
again  over  the  marvelous  centuries  that  had  produeed 
them,  and  held  them  safe,  inviolate,  from  all  assault 


8  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

or  rapine.  Here  and  there  out  of  the  wide  blue  mirror 
rose  i  >t  her  walls  and  towers,  upon  islets  small  and  large, 
—  medieval  monasteries,  churches,  and  public  insti- 
tutions. How  many  times,  I  thought,  had  this  same 
path  across  the  Lagoon  been  followed  by  Venetians, 
and  by  all  the  illustrious  travelers  who  sought  their 
city's  charms,  for  a  thousand  years  before  railroads 
were  dreamed  of!  What  a  procession  it  must  have 
been  in  those  old  days,  of  craft  of  every  size  and 
style  and  beauty,  passing  each  other  where  now  the 
steamer  cruised  in  solitude! 

The  low-lying  mainland,  at  first  hardly  distinguish- 
able over  the  blue  but  for  the  trees  that  dotted  it,  had 
now  come  close  at  hand,  revealing  the  narrow  mouth 
of  the  little  Brenta,  but  no  sign  of  human  habitations 
save  one  or  two  buildings  on  the  bank.  Fusina  was 
hidden  behind  the  woods  on  the  right.  The  steamer 
came  alongside  a  quay;  we  debarked  through  a  very 
modern  shed,  and  found  the  electric  train  of  two  hand- 
some new  coaches  waiting  on  the  other  side.  I  blessed 
my  fortune  that  the  old,  rickety,  smoky  steam-tram, 
of  whose  discomforts  I  had  heard,  had  gone  the  way  of 
the  past.  In  another  minute  we  were  rolling  rapidly 
up  the  valley  of  the  Brenta,  with  the  stream  on  our 
left,  and  a  flat,  wooded  countryside  to  right. 

What  a  difference  this  from  the  old-fashioned 
method  of  ascending  the  river,  which  the  Venetians 
followed  for  twelve  hundred  years,  before  electricity 
or  rails  were  thought  of!  Evelyn  spoke  of  it  in  his 
trip  of  1045:  "Wre  changed  our  barge  and  were  then 
drawne  by  horses  thro'  the  river  Brenta,  a  strait 
fhancll  as  even  as  a  line  for  20  miles,  the  country  on 
both  sides  deliciously  adorned  with  country  villas  and 
gentlemen's  retirements."  l  And  Lady  Morgan  wrote 

1  John  Evelyn,  Diary  and  Letters. 


- 
o 


THE  BRENTA  9 

of  her  trip  of  1819:  "It  is  a  delightful  thing  to  roll 
along  the  banks  of  the  Brenta  —  on  a  fine,  bright, 
sunny,  holiday  morning!  —  The  canal  lying  through 
a  laughing,  lovely,  fertile  champagne;  —  the  elegant 
marble  villas  to  the  left,  with  their  Palladian  facades, 
their  green  verandas,  and  parterres  of  orange  trees, 
inducing  the  belief  that  they  are  still  lorded  by  the 
Foscarini  and  the  Bembi  of  the  great  and  free  days  of 
Republican  Venice!"  x  While  Byron  rhapsodized  of 
the  journey  by  eventide:  — 

Gently  flows 
The  deep-dyed  Brenta,  where  their  hues  instil 
The  odoriferous  purple  of  a  new-born  rose, 
Which  streams  upon  her  stream,  and  glassed  within  it  glows. 

Two  companions  were  going  with  me  as  far  as  Padua, 
destined  to  accompany  me  also  while  there;  but  when 
I  should  go  on  to  Vicenza  and  Bassano,  it  must  be 
alone.  It  was  a  pleasure  to  all  three  of  us  to  drink  in 
with  our  eyes  the  soft  greenery  of  the  grass  and  trees, 
after  being  so  long  immured  amongst  the  stones  of 
Venice.  On  leaving  the  coast  behind,  wide  cultivated 
fields  appeared,  white  stuccoed  farmhouses  glowing 
brilliantly  in  the  hot  sun,  churches,  little  villages,  and 
distant  campanili  ever  rising  above  the  level  of  the 
distance,  —  that  distinctive  mark  of  Veneto  scenery. 
The  highway  accompanied  us,  —  together  with  the 
river,  —  a  white,  dusty,  hard,  macadamized  road, 
smooth  as  asphalt,  laden  with  mules  and  peasants, 
and  carts  drawn  by  creamy  oxen  or  diminutive  don- 
keys. It  was  almost  as  thickly  set  lied  as  an  English 
village-street,  and  the  tram  made  a  stop  every  five 
minutes  at  some  larger  aggregation  of  buildings. 

Soon  we  came  to  a  stretch  along  the  river,  where 
the  first  villas  of  the  Venetian  patricians  burst  upon 
1  Lady  Morgan,  Italy,  vol.  n. 


10  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

our  view.  Alas,  they  were  mostly,  as  we  soon  found, 
ID  a  condition  of  sad  decay.  Nearly  all  of  them  had 
been  plastered  outside  with  stucco;  and  this,  neg- 
lected and  unpainted  for  ages,  crumbling  and  falling 
otV  in  places,  joined  with  the  close-shuttered  and 
hoarded  windows,  and  the  overgrown  gardens,  to 
give  them  an  aspect  desolate  and  melancholy.  Along 
the  river  hanks  they  extended,  on  both  sides,  mile 
after  mile,  uniform  in  their  large  size,  Renaissance 
lines,  rococo  decorations,  and  abandoned,  ruinous  ap- 
pearance. Even  when  they  were  of  stone,  or  enlivened 
by  modern  plebeian  tenants,  the  decay,  the  weedy, 
tangled  grounds,  everything  about  them,  emphasized 
the  sad  contrast  with  what  must  once  have  been.1 

This,  then,  was  all  that  was  left  of  that  extraordin- 
ary, artificial,  highly  cultured  and  peculiar  social  ex- 
istence, which  was  the  first  of  its  sort  in  Europe,  which 
set  the  mark  that  the  French  and  English  nobility  later 
sought  to  attain;  that  first  return  to  the  soil  by  a  whole 
polished  upper  class,  after  the  dangers  of  country-life 
in  the  Dark  Ages  had  been  removed.  Here  were  the 
boarded  up,  mouldering  salons  and  ball-rooms  where 
they  had  played,  and  practiced  the  art  of  conversa- 
tion, and  danced  into  the  small  hours;  here  were  the 
densely  overgrown  gardens  once  so  carefully  ornate, 
witli  statues  still  upreared  but  dilapidated  and  forlorn, 
where  they  had  walked  and  whispered  gallantries  in 

1  Some  <>f  these  were  constructed  by  Palladio,  and  by  other  famous 
architects  and  artists.  On  the  very  brink  of  the  "  bello  ed  allegrissimo 
fiunic  ."  I  ardinal  Bembo  designated  the  Brenta,  in  a  letter  from  his 

Padnan  villa  —  still  rises  Palladio's  Palazzo  Foscari,  which  Giacomo 
Zancll.i  thus  describes  in  his  Vita  di  Andrea  Palladio:  "On  the  ground - 
flooc  an-  tin-  rooms  for  the  servizio  della  casa;  by  two  magnificent  stair- 
cases at  the  sides  one  ascends  to  the  Ionic  loggia;  the  great  hall  is  made 
in  tli>-  shape  <>f  a  cross;  in  the  corners  are  commodious  chambers,  and 
overhead,  smaller  bedrooms." 


THE  BREXTA  11 

the  cool  of  the  afternoon;  here  were  the  ruined  casinos, 
pavilions,  and  summer-houses,  where  they  had  loved 
to  contrast  rusticity  with  silks  and  laces. 

It  was  not  difficult  to  construct  it  all  in  the  mind 
again,  that  so-long-past  life  that  thought  not  of  the 
morrow;  repeopling  these  decadent  edifices  with  the 
gay  creatures  who  once  made  them  shine,  refilling 
these  mouldering  mews  with  the  horses  and  painted, 
swung  carriages,  that  once  occupied  this  same  road 
at  sunset  with  a  procession  of  brilliant  coloring.  These 
villas  were  beautiful  then;  as  Mrs.  Piozzi  —  Doctor 
Johnson's  Mrs.  Thrale  —  indicates  to  us  in  the 
bright  commentary  on  her  travels,  by  her  enthusiastic 
remark  upon  "the  sublimity  of  their  architecture  — 
the  magnificence  of  their  orangeries,  the  happy  con- 
struction of  the  cool  arcades,  and  general  air  of  festiv- 
ity which  breathes  upon  the  banks  of  this  truly  wizard 
stream,  planted  with  dancing,  not  weeping  willows."  1 

But  through  the  tall  trees  of  a  park  upon  our  right 
there  now  suddenly  flashed  upon  our  eyes  the  vision 
of  a  distant,  white,  Renaissance  facade,  seen  down  a 
long  green  vista;  then  we  turned  a  corner,  ran  swiftly 
along  a  high  park-wall,  and  passed  before  a  building 
of  proportions  so  imposing  and  monumental,  that  we 
knew  it  could  be  nothing  else  than  the  Palace  of  the 
Pisani.  Our  conviction  was  confirmed  a  minute  later 
by  the  stoppage  of  the  tram,  and  the  calling  out  of  the 
station  of  Stra.  We  debarked  in  a  village-street,  be- 
fore a  solitary  inn,  with  naught  but  scattered  dwell- 
ings in  sight. 

1    Mrs.    Piozzi,    Glimpses    of    Italian    Society    in    the    isih    Century.   In 

Shakcspeare'a  day  Lady  Arundel,  wife  <.f  Hi'-  acted  art-collecting  <"arl, 

;m<l  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  who  was  thrice  ambassador  to  Venice,   1604   ^">, 

both  had  iplendid  villas  upon  the  river;  and  their  example  waa  followed 
by  innumerable  Englishmen  of  high  rank  .luring;  the  two  succeeding  cen- 
turies. —  Vide  L  Peanall  Smith,  Life  and  Letters  of  sir  Henry  Wotton. 


u  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Leaving  our  luggage  at  the  locanda,  we  walked  back 
the  half-mile  to  the  palace,  along  the  highway,  with 
I  he  Brenta  close  upon  our  right.  Along  the  farther 
side  of  the  stream  stretched  more  Renaissance  villas 
of  goodly  size,  all  hoarded  up,  shuttered  and  decaying, 
with  the  invariable  baroque  statues  looking  sadly  out 
from  the  tangles  of  shrubbery.  But  on  our  left  soon 
rose  the  high  stone  wall  of  the  park  of  the  Pisani, 
and  through  an  ornamental  gateway  at  its  corner 
we  looked  down  a  beautiful,  far,  green  vista  to  the 
shining  white  facade  of  which  we  had  first  caught 
a  glimpse.  Grand  as  the  building  was,  larger  and 
handsomer  than  any  villa  we  had  seen,  it  was  but 
the  stables,  or  mews,  of  the  establishment;  so  we 
were  informed  by  the  people  of  the  adjacent  farm- 
house, -  -  and  were  directed  to  follow  the  park-wall 
to  the  palace  entrance. 

Another  five  minutes'  walk  brought  us  to  the  villa, 
whose  mighty  facade  looked  directly  upon  the  high- 
way and  the  river.  Its  magnificent  proportions  and 
harmonious  lines,  radiantly  white  in  the  rays  of  the 
summer  sun,  dazzled  and  overwhelmed  us  as  we  stood 
gazing  upward.  The  noble  delineations  were  genu- 
inely Palladian;  a  grand  central  pavilion,  three  stories 
in  height,  was  thrust  forward  from  the  mass,  holding 
Corinthian  half-columns  running  the  height  of  the 
two  upper  stories,  and  supporting  a  pediment  with  a 
beautiful  stuccoed  frieze  of  wreaths  and  putti;  the 
long  wings,  of  two  stories,  ended  in  smaller  pavilions 
of  simpler  design,  with  a  quiet  rusticated  basement, 
and  on  the  upper  floor,  Ionic  pilasters  in  couples  be- 
tween  the  heavily  corniced  windows;  while  on  the 
gables  of  the  pavilions  and  along  the  balustrades 
topping  the  wings,  rose  against  the  sky-line  many 
statues  and  decorative  urns;  the  whole  exhibiting  a 


THE  BRENTA  13 

harmony  of  lines,  an  accurate  proportion  of  openings 
to  solid,  and  an  absence  of  over-ornamentation,  that 
were  charming  and  impressive  beyond  words. 

Large  dark  clouds  had  been  hastily  gathering  in  the 
sky  for  one  of  those  heavy  thunder-storms  so  frequent 
here  in  the  summer,  and  we  entered  the  simple  main 
doorway  of  the  palace  as  the  first  large  drops  began  to 
fall.  Though  the  portal  was  open  there  was  no  person 
in  sight.  The  central  hall  ran  through  to  the  back  of 
the  villa,  forming  in  the  middle  a  double  colonnade 
between  open  courts  at  the  sides.  We  walked  through 
it  to  the  rear  doorway,  where  again  the  sight  of  the 
gleaming  ecurie  greeted  us,  rising  majestically  behind 
a  long  stretch  of  lawn  and  flower-gardens,  framed  by 
the  woods  on  each  hand.  The  black  sky  now  vomited 
thunderbolts  and  a  rush  of  hail,  that  was  soon  driving 
into  the  courts  pellets  as  large  as  fair-sized  cherries. 
It  is  just  such  tropical  storms  that  the  peasants  dread 
more  than  anything  else  that  can  happen,  annihilating 
in  a  few  minutes,  as  they  often  do,  the  labors  of  a  year. 

We  shuddered  irresistibly,  then,  realizing  the  ter- 
rible destruction  that  was  happening  about  us,  wiping 
out  the  means,  the  happiness,  of  scores,  perhaps  hun- 
dreds of  families.  For  the  poor  Lombard  peasant  who 
owns  or  rents  his  farm  —  unsupported  by  a  landlord 
—  lives  nowadays  upon  such  a  close  margin  between 
the  usurer  and  ruin,  that  a  single  hailstorm  like  this 
one  not  only  destroys  his  crops  of  the  season,  but 
effects  his  entire  downfall.  Only  those  can  survive 
who  live  upon  the  mezzeria,  or  sharing-system,  with 
a  good  landlord  to  tide  them  over  the  year,  at  his  own 
expense.  Such  are  the  countless,  unknown  tragedies 
of  the  plain. 

The  keeper  of  the  palace,  which  is  now  a  national 
monument,  appeared  when  the  storm  was  over,  fifteen 


14  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

minutes  later,  explaining  that  he  had  been  occu- 
pied in  closing  the  windows;  and  he  proceeded  to 
conduct  ns  over  the  piano  nobile.  We  went  first  to  the 
great  centra]  salon,  or  ball-room,  directly  over  the 
colonnade  between  the  courts.  Its  dimensions  and 
beauty  were  truly  amazing:  it  is  two  stories  in  height, 
with  imitation-stucco  decorations  in  the  way  of  pi- 
lasters, cornices,  and  mouldings,  all  cleverly  painted 
witli  realistic  shadows,  and  with  a  balcony  around  the 
upper  story,  having  a  splendid,  open-work,  bronze 
railing.  Its  chief  attraction,  however,  is  the  huge 
ceiling-painting  by  Tiepolo.  As  from  a  glorious  azure 
heaven,  of  whitest  clouds  and  infinite  depth,  angels 
and  beings  of  the  upper  world  flock  to  chant  the 
glorification  of  the  Pisani.  While  not  a  great  work, 
and  lacking  in  onty  too  many  points  as  a  first-class 
fresco,  it  fulfills  the  one  supreme  function  of  a  ceiling- 
picture, —  it  is  decorative;  and  its  bright,  joyous 
colors,  its  sense  of  space  and  freedom,  illumine  the 
whole  hall  with  their  gayety. 

Thence  we  were  conducted  on  an  interminable 
round  of  the  chambers  of  the  piano  nobile,  which  have 
the  rare  distinction  of  still  containing  much  of  their 
old  furniture.  We  saw  a  billiard-room  filled  with  in- 
different paintings,  and  rooms  and  suites  decorated 
in  all  sorts  of  usual  and  unusual  styles  of  the  decad- 
ent Renaissance;  we  saw  the  royal  bed  once  occupied 
by  the  Emperor  Maximilian  of  Austria,  when  he 
stayed  here  for  a  time,  the  suite  and  bedroom  used 
by  Victor  Emmanuel  II  in  the  strenuous  days  of  the 
Risorijinienio,  —  and,  finally,  the  gilded,  lavishly  deco- 
rated chamber  and  couch  of  the  great  Napoleon,  when 
he  was  accomplishing  the  downfall  of  the  ancient 
Republic  of  Venice. 

Quite  as  one  would  expect,  this  chamber  and  couch 


THE  BRENTA  15 

of  the  soldier  of  fortune,  qi-devant  bourgeois,  were  very 
much  more  elaborate  and  ornate  than  any  of  the 
others;  they  had  been  made  over  and  redecorated  in 
the  manner  of  the  First  Empire,  —  beautifully,  it  must 
be  said,  —  even  to  the  embroidering  of  the  imperial 
crown  and  letter  "N."  I  could  not  help  but  think,  as 
I  gazed  upon  that  pillow  pressed  by  the  conqueror, 
of  the  vast  upheaval  just  then  coming  to  the  whole 
civilized  world  from  the  one  head  that  had  there 
reclined. 

We  did  not  have  time  to  visit  the  now  empty  mews, 
once  filled  with  scores  of  blooded  horses  and  silken 
carriages,  nor  to  walk  along  the  inviting  shady  avenues 
of  the  park;  but  were  obliged  to  hurry  to  catch  our 
train  for  Padua.  Again  we  coursed  along  the  high- 
road, through  the  densely  populated  and  cultivated 
countryside,  past  village  after  village;  and,  as  Hazlitt 
said  of  the  same  road  in  182G,  "the  whole  way  was 
cultivated  beauty  and  smiling  vegetation.  Not  a  rood 
of  land  lay  neglected,  nor  did  there  seem  the  smallest 
interruption  to  the  bounty  of  nature  or  the  industry 
of  man.  For  miles  before  you,  behind  you,  and  on 
each  side,  the  trailing  vines  hung  over  waving  corn- 
fields (wheat).  Every  foot  and  acre  of  this  immense 
plain  is  wrought  up  to  a  pitch  of  neatness  and  pro- 
ductiveness equal  to  that  of  a  gentleman's  kitchen- 
garden.  The  whole  is  literally,  and  without  any  kind 
of  exaggeration,  one  continued  and  delightful  gar- 
den." l 

Mendelssohn,  on  his  first  visit  here  four  years  later, 
wrote  home  with  delight:  "Venetian  villas  were  occa- 
sionally visible  from  the  road;  our  way  led  past  houses, 
trees  and  gardens  like  a  park.  The  whole  country  had 
a  festive  air,  as  if  a  prince  were  expected  to  make  his 

1    William   Hazlitt,  Notes  of  a  Journey  through  France  and  Italy. 


1(5  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

grand  entry,  and  the  vino-branches  with  their  rich 
purple  grapes,  hanging  in  festoons  from  the  trees, 
made  the  most  lovely  of  all  festive  wreaths."  ! 

Bui  my  thoughts  turned  now  to  the  wonderful  old 
city  thai  we  were  approaching.  I  had  already  visited 
Padua  on  several  occasions,  during  fifteen  years  past, 
but  each  time  casually  and  not  fully,  seeing  sufficient 
really  only  to  whet  the  desire  for  a  completer  under- 
standing of  her  treasures  of  art  and  history.  Padua  is 
truly  one  of  the  greatest  towns  of  Italy,  and  always  has 
been, —  in  historic  accomplishments,  in  size  and  power, 
in  Renaissance  culture,  in  science,  literature,  and  art. 

Her  importance  began  in  very  early  ages.  The 
founder  is  said  by  the  inhabitants,  who  thoroughly 
believe  the  statement  of  Virgil,  to  have  been  Antenor, 
the  brother  of  Priam  of  Troy,  at  the  head  of  a  band 
of  Trojan  survivors.  (How  those  confreres  of  Hector 
did  duty  as  founders  of  Italian  towns!)  In  reality 
the  town  was  first  Etruscan,  then  Celtic;  and  after  the 
Celts'  subjugation,  about  200  B.C.,  became  very  power- 
ful under  Roman  rule,  being  the  second  largest  city  in 
the  whole  Peninsula.  The  Latin  writer  Strabo  relates 
that  she  was  able  to  send  forth  an  army  of  two  hundred 
thousand,  —  of  course  much  exaggerated,  but  signi- 
ficant of  her  former  size.  Livy,  who  was  born  and 
died  in  Padua,  says  that  her  confines  once  extended 
to  the  sea.  With  the  decline  of  Roman  power,  as  was 
inevitable  with  all  the  cities  situated  upon  the  plain, 
she  suffered  attack  and  rapine  from  one  savage  in- 
vader after  another,  being  burned  to  the  ground  by 
Attila,  by  the  Lombards  in  601,  and  by  the  Huns 
about  900;  until  very  little  was  left  of  her  former 
amplitude,  and  naught  of  her  magnificence.  Well  did 
Dante  cry: 

1   Mendelssohn's  Letters  from  Italy  and  Switzerland. 


THE  BRENTA  17 

Where  't  is  the  lot  of  tyranny  to  mourn, 

There  Heaven's  stern  justice  lays  chastising  hand 

On  Attila,  who  was  the  Scourge  of  Earth.1 

In  the  succeeding  Middle  Ages  Padua  gradually 
raised  her  head  again,  struggled  with  the  other  towns 
against  the  emperors,  and  instituted  a  free,  republi- 
can form  of  government,  building  for  its  use  the  huge 
and  celebrated  civic  structure  called  the  Palazzo  della 
Ragione.  In  1222  she  joined  the  march  of  learning  by 
founding  her  great  university,  which  after  seven  cen- 
turies of  proud  distinction  still  stands  among  the 
foremost  of  the  world. 

Then  came  the  day  of  that  extraordinary  and  never- 
to-be-forgotten  tyrant,  Ezzelino  da  Romano,  the  first 
of  his  kind,  —  who  has  left  his  bloody  traces,  not  only 
in  Padua,  but  over  the  whole  of  the  Veneto.  Unique 
amongst  three  centuries  of  bloodthirsty  Italian  des- 
pots, for  the  extent  to  which  his  cruelty  exceeded  all 
others',  his  career  of  over  thirty  years'  unbridled  con- 
quest and  excesses  is  the  best  proof  of  how  such  ty- 
rants ruled  by  fear  alone.  Originally  but  a  small 
noble  of  the  Trevisan  marches,  he  became  by  his  fight- 
ing ability  captain  of  the  imperial  forces  in  Lombardy, 
recognized  as  such  by  Frederick  II,  and  honored  by 
him  with  his  daughter's  hand.  With  such  armed 
power  behind  Ezzelino,  gathered  from  the  Ghibelline 
towns,  he  proceeded,  nominally  in  the  name  of  the 
Emperor  but  really  for  his  own  aggrandizement,  to 
subdue  and  lay  waste  one  city  after  another  thai  would 
not  voluntarily  submit,  until  his  sway  extended  from 
the  Po  and  the  Adda  to  high  Pieve  di  Cadore  in  the 
Alps. 

Every  step  in  this  path  of  conquest  was  marked  by 
bloody  cruelties  that  to  us  to-day  seem  beyond  hu- 

1  Daate'a  Inferno,  canto  xn;  Gary's  translation. 


is  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

man  deeds.  Padua  was  one  of  the  first  cities  to  fall 
under  his  assault,  and  one  of  the  greatest  sufferers 
from  his  bloodthirstiness.  The  inhabitants  had  un- 
wisely pulled  down,  in  their  anger,  the  old  dwelling 
of  his  family.  some  remains  of  which  still  exist  in 
the  Via  S.  Lucia;  and  this  he  revenged  by  a  sack  and 
massacre  extending  for  many  days.  After  that  he 
impressed  into  his  army  the  major  portion  of  the  able- 
bodied  men,  constructed  a  formidable  fortress  for 
his  own  residence,  and  built  eight  large  prisons, 
which  lie  kept  crammed  to  overflowing  by  all  persons 
of  any  sex  or  age  for  whom  he  could  conceive  the 
slightest  animosity.  Although  these  imprisoned  thou- 
sands were  constantly  depleted  by  appalling  tortures 
and  executions,  new  unfortunates  were  as  swiftly 
hurried  into  their  places.  Later  on,  for  a  revolt  against 
him  by  the  Paduansin  his  absence,  Ezzelino  seized, 
tortured,  and  executed  the  whole  body  of  their  com- 
patriots in  his  army,  some  eleven  thousand  in  number. 
Such  was  the  monster  whom  Symonds  has  well 
described  as  "a  small,  wiry  man,  with  terror  in  his 
face  and  enthusiasm  for  evil  in  his  heart,  who  lived 
a  foe  to  luxury,  cold  to  the  pathos  of  children,  dead 
to  the  enchantments  of  women.  His  one  passion  was 
the  greed  of  power,  heightened  by  the  lust  for  blood."  J 
Dante  placed  him  in  the  lowest  circle  of  Hell  beside 
Attila:  — 

These  are  the  souls  of  tyrants  who  were  given 
To  blood  and  rapine.   Here  they  wail  aloud 
Their  merciless  wrongs.  — That  brow, 
Whereon  the  hair  so  jetty  clustering  hangs, 
Is  Ezzelino! 2 

And  Ariosto  spoke  of  him  in  the  Orlando  Furioso, 
canto  xxxiii,  as  — 

1  J.  A.  Symonds,  Age  of  the  Despots. 

2  Dante's  Inferno,  canto  xu;  Cary's  translation. 


THE  BRENTA  19 

Fierce  Ezzelino,  that  most  inhuman  lord, 
Who  shall  be  deemed  by  man  a  child  of  Hell, 
And  work  such  evil,  thinning  with  the  sword 
Who  in  Ansonia's  wasted  cities  dwell." 

Ezzelino  was  defeated  at  last,  in  1259,  by  a  combina- 
tion of  the  many  enemies  whom  he  had  raised  all  over 
Italy;  he  was  made  a  prisoner,  though  wounded,  but 
tore  off  his  bandages  until  he  bled  to  death.  His 
memory  has  never  ceased,  among  the  peasantry  of  the 
Veneto,  to  be  the  subject  of  devilish  myths,  and  the 
mention  of  his  name  is  sufficient  to  quell  an  obstrep- 
erous child. 

Ezzelino's  fall  signaled  the  time  of  Padua's  great- 
est power  and  prosperity  since  Roman  days.  Relieved 
and  joyous,  free  and  self-governing,  she  plunged  into 
the  building  and  adornment  of  those  other  splendid 
structures  that  distinguish  her  to-day,  —  the  Church 
of  S.  Antonio,  the  Baptistery,  the  Churches  of  the 
Arena  and  the  Ercmetani.  In  1318  the  Paduan  Guelfic 
captain,  Jacopo  della  Carrara,  was  elected  by  his  com- 
patriots as  "Capitano  del  Popolo";  he  assumed  ab- 
solute power,  and  founded  the  subsequent  dynasty 
of  despots  of  that  name.  For  a  while  they  lost  their 
city  to  the  Della  Scala  of  Verona,  but  soon  recovered 
it.  They  were  a  distinctly  manly  and  generous  race, 
maintaining  their  authority  by  an  upbuilding  of  the 
city,  and  the  happiness  which  they  conferred.  There 
are  few  finer  figures  of  those  times  than  that  unfortun- 
ate Francesco  della  Carrara,  who  was  despoiled  of 
his  power  by  Gian  Galeazzo  Visconti  of  Milan  in  1388, 
and  hi->  son  Francesco  Novello,  who  experienced  a 
series  of  romantic  adventures  in  his  attempts  to  regain 
the  throne.  These  finally  succeeded  in  1390,  when  on 

the  dark  night  of  June  19  he  swam  the  river,  entered 
the  town   alone,  without  forces,  and  was  welcomed 


20  PLAIN    TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

with  such  joy  by  the  citizens  that  they  rose  in  arms 
and  expelled  the  Visconti  garrison. 

In  1  Mi.'),  after  Gian  Galeazzo's  death,  however,  the 
Venetians,  having  successfully  played  off  for  some 
time  the  Carrara  and  the  Visconti  against  each  other, 
now  s»i/,(l  Padua  by  treachery,  and  took  Francesco 
and  his  sons  in  an  iron  cage  to  Venice,  where  they  were 
strangled.  Harsh  as  was  this  treatment  of  the  des- 
pots, that  of  the  people  of  Padua  was  such  that  she 
soon  became  one  of  the  Republic's  most  loyal  sub- 
jects; caressed,  adorned,  and  prosperous  under  the 
sway  of  the  doges,  above  all  with  assured  peace,  she 
carried  the  white  Lion  of  St.  Mark  with  pride  unto 
the  end.  During  the  terrible  war  of  the  League  of 
Cambrai,  1508-16,  when  the  united  great  nations 
overwhelmed  the  Republic,  and  her  towns  departed 
from  their  allegiance,  Padua  remained  true,  and  re- 
pelled with  success  the  attack  of  the  Emperor  Maxi- 
milian's army,  though  it  was  a  hundred  thousand 
strong.1 

But  the  most  important  events  in  the  history  of 
Padua  lay  outside  of  her  politics,  in  the  fields  of  sci- 
ence, religion,  and  art.  Her  great  university  has  ever 
played  the  most  prominent  part  in  her  life,  drawing, 
as  it  has,  for  centuries,  such  multitudes  of  the  first 
minds  of  Europe  to  its  lecture-halls.  Padua  "ranks 
with  Florence  in  the  ardor  with  which  she  threw 
herself  into  the  humanistic  movement  and  devoted 
herself  to  the  revival  of  the  classical  ideals,  and  recon- 
struction  of  the  antique  civilization.  Her  university, 
receiving  students  from  both  sides  of  the  Alps,  formed 

1  To  those  wishing  a  fuller  account  of  Paduan  annals,  and  to  those  mak- 
inp  b  long  stay  in  the  city,  I  recommend  The  Story  of  Padua  by  Cesare 
Potigno,  in  the  Medieval  Towns  Series,  which  has  been  issued  since  this 
Volume  will  to  press;  in  it  the  town's  history  is  accurately  and  elaborately 
narrated,  ;ni<l  her  manifold  points  of  interest  are  intimately  described. 


THE  BRENTA  21 

at  the  beginning  of  the  fifteenth  century  the  centre 
of  intellectual  culture;  nobles,  poets,  and  philosophers 
spurring  each  other  on  in  the  work  of  research  and 
exploration."1 

Sir  Philip  Sidney,  Sir  Thomas  Hoby,  Fynes  Mory- 
son,  and  many  other  prominent  intellectual  English- 
men of  the  Elizabethan  Age,  here  perfected  their  edu- 
cation; and  in  the  succeeding  century  it  became  a 
common  thing  for  Oxford  men  to  repair  to  Padua  after 
their  graduation.  Thus  was  the  Renaissance  of  learn- 
ing transplanted  to  Britain.  Among  the  later  pilgrims 
came  Oliver  Goldsmith,  in  1755,  earning  his  way  on 
foot  by  playing  the  flute,  and  procuring  by  his  labors 
at  the  University  that  degree  of  M.B.  on  which  was 
founded  his  claim  to  the  title  of  Doctor. 

Here  it  was  that  Petrarch  came  towards  the  end  of 
his  life,  and  made  a  home  in  the  neighboring  town 
of  Arqua  for  his  various  collections,  where  his  friendly 
protector,  Jacopo  II  della  Carrara,  often  journeyed  to 
visit  him;  here  it  was  that  Torquato  Tasso,  long 
after,  when  "not  yet  turned  seventeen,  passed  a  pub- 
lic examination  in  canon  and  civil  law,  philosophy, 
and  theology,  with  universal  eulogy,  and  astonish- 
ment of  that  learned  university";2  and  in  the  fol- 
lowing year  published  his  heroic  poem  'Rinaldo," 
the  beginning  of  his  fame;  while  Dante,  in  the  course 
of  his  wanderings,  found  at  Padua  for  some  years 
a  congenial  residence,  obtaining  honors  and  susten- 
ance by  lecturing  in  the  University.  The  artist 
whom  the  latter  met  at  Padua  in  1300,  with  whom 
he  formed  an  intimate  friendship,  and  whom  he  often 
Used  to  watch  while  at  work,  introduces  us  to  the 
remarkable   and   early  importance   of   the  city  as  a 

1  M.  Crutwellj  Andrea  Mantegna. 

2  Mrs.  Trollope,  Hornet  and  Haunts  of  the  Italian  Pods,  u,  113. 


PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

(  cutrc  of  art:  for  it  was  Giotto  himself.   Dante's  own 
comment  shows  the  hitter's  position  then:  — 

O  powers  of  man !  how  vain  your  glory,  nipt 
E'en  in  its  height  of  verdure,  if  an  age 
Less  bright  succeed  not.   Cimabue  thought 
To  lord  it  over  painting's  field;  and  now 
The  cry  is  Giotto's,  and  his  name  eclipsed.1 

Padua  was  one  of  the  first  towns  of  Italy  to  enter 
with  zeal  into  the  new  birth  of  Art;  she  called  Niccolo 
and  Giovanni  Pisano  to  her  as  soon  as  they  became 
famous,  and  Giotto  as  soon  as  he  had  made  his  genius 
known  to  the  world;  offering  to  the  latter  works  of  a 
size  such  as  he  was  never  elsewhere  called  upon  to 
execute.  He  covered  the  huge  walls  of  the  Palazzo 
della  Ragione  with  frescoes,  —  alas,  now  utterly  de- 
stroyed; he  painted,  according  to  Vasari,  "una  bellis- 
fiima  capella"  in  the  Church  of  S.  Antonio,  of  which 
there  remain  now  but  questionable  ruined  fragments; 
and,  last  but  chief,  he  lined  the  nave  of  the  little 
church  of  Madonna  dell'  Arena  with  that  marvelous 
series  of  frescoes  depicting  the  lives  of  Christ  and  the 
Virgin,  which  have  ever  since  remained  the  most  im- 
portant product  of  pictorial  art. 

Following  the  time  of  Giotto,  Padua  called  to  her 
that  great  pair  of  Veronese  painters,  Altichieri  da 
Zevio  and  Jacopo  d'Avanzo,  who  surpassed  not  only 
all  others  of  the  fourteenth  century,  but  sometimes 
even  Giotto  himself  in  lifelikeness  and  realism;  that 
curious  pair  who  so  steadfastly  labored  together,  about 
whom  so  little  is  known,  and  of  whose  extensive  works 
so  little  is  left  us. 

But  Padua,  pushing  on  with  zeal,  began  now  to 
produce  painters  of  her  own:  first,  Giusto  Padovano, 
who  about  1378  filled  her  quaint  little  Romanesque 

1  Dante's  Purgalorio,  canto  xi;  Cary's  translation. 


THE  BRENTA  23 

baptistery,  with  that  extraordinary  series  of  New 
Testament  pictures  which  still  remain  to  make  us 
wonder;  then,  in  the  early  fifteenth  century,  the 
teacher  Squarcione,  who  from  a  tailor  made  himself 
by  long  travel  and  study  the  founder  of  Padua's  real 
school  of  art,  training  many  scores  of  students  by  the 
process  of  copying  from  the  antique  sculpture  of  his 
collections. 

This  process  made  the  Paduan  school  almost  the 
earliest  to  grasp  the  secret  of  rendering  "tactile 
values,"1  enabling  them  to  depict  objects  with  real- 
istic solidity;  it  also  gave  them  disagreeable  manner- 
isms of  stiffness  and  lack  of  beauty;  but  beyond,  and 
forgetting  all  else,  it  produced  for  us  that  magnificent 
artist  who  was  able,  while  seizing  the  truth  of  tactile 
value,  to  keep  and  develop  his  own  sense  of  grace  and 
color,  who  became  Padua's  greatest  representative, 
and  the  foremost  of  his  time  in  all  north  Italy  —  An- 
drea Mantegna. 

This  profound  genius,  born  at  Vicenza  in  1431, 
entered  at  the  age  of  ten  into  the  circle  of  Paduan 
students;  at  seventeen  he  began  producing  finished 
pictures;  and,  most  fortunately,  while  yet  a  very 
young  man,  he  made  the  acquaintance  and  friend- 
ship of  that  pioneer  of  Venetian  beauty,  Jacopo  Bel- 
lini, whom  Padua  had  called  to  her  as  she  had  so 
many  others.  Their  intimacy  is  shown  by  the  fact 
that  Mantegna  married  Jacopo's  daughter,  in  1453. 
There  can  be  no  doubt,  therefore,  as  to  who  saved 
Andrea  from  the  stiffness  and  harshness  general  to  the 
Paduan  school,  and  aided  and  inspired  him  to  the 
grace  and  glow  of  color  which  he  later  manifested. 
He  may  also  have  taken  some  of  his  opulent  hues 
from  the  German  painters,  who,  says  Lord  Lindsay, 

1  This  is  Mr.  Berenson's  happy  phrase. 


*l  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

"abounded  at  Padua  about  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth 
century;  and  it  is  to  them,  and  their  predecessors,  if 
I  mistake  not,  that  Italy  owes  the  first  introduction 
of  that  rich  coloring,  exhibited  as  early  as  1371  by 
Lorenzo  Veneziano."1 

About  this  same  time,  also,  in  1444,  Padua  had 
summoned  to  her  the  Florentine  sculptor  Donatello, 
fresh  from  his  triumphs  by  the  Arno;  he  came  with  a 
circle  of  assistants,  and  proceeded,  not  only  to  orna- 
ment S.  Antonio  with  a  wonderful  series  of  bronze 
statues,  crucifixes,  and  bas-reliefs,  but  to  model  and 
cast  the  first  lifesize  equestrian  statue  made  in  bronze 
since  ancient  times.  This  was  the  likeness  of  Venice's 
condottiere-general,  Gattamelata,  which  excited  so 
much  astonishment  and  marveling  over  the  whole  of 
Europe.  There  can  be  no  doubt  also  that  with  such 
significant  works  going  on  about  him,  the  young  Man- 
tegna  drew  from  them  further  inspiration  and  know- 
ledge. All  fitted  him  for  his  coming  triumph,  when, 
employed  with  other  assistants  by  Squarcione,  some- 
time between  1453  and  1459,  to  decorate  for  the 
Ovetari  family  their  chapel  in  the  Church  of  the 
Eremetani,  his  six  frescoes  on  the  lives  of  Saints 
James  and  Christopher  raised  him  at  one  bound  to 
the  supremacy  of  his  day.  Like  the  Brancacci  chapel 
at  Florence,  which  after  1428  became  the  resort  of 
artists  anxious  to  study  the  attainment  of  realism  by 
Masaccio,  so  after  1458  did  this  chapel  of  the  Ere- 
metani become  the  teacher  of  succeeding  generations. 

It  was  with  a  deep  longing  to  behold  once  more 
these  exceptional  relics  of  the  Renaissance,  that  I 
looked  eagerly  forward  as  the  electric  train  brought 
us  closer  to  Padua's  medieval  walls.  We  had  left 
the   Brenta,   turning  south  west  ward,   and   were  ap- 

1  Lord  Lindsay,  Christian  Art. 


STKA.    THE   GRAND   HALL,    ROYAL   VILLA. 


THE  BRENTA  25 

proaching  the  city  at  its  northeastern  corner.  The 
rich  plain  in  which  Padua  lies,  now  spread  around  us 
in  its  luxuriance  of  gardens,  shrubbery,'  and  massive 
trees,  is  backed  immediately  on  the  west  by  the 
Euganean  Hills,  —  that  outpost  of  the  Alps  which 
stretches  so  far  to  the  south  as  to  rise  like  a  group  of 
solitary  islands  from  the  sea.  On  the  east  lies  the 
Lagoon,  on  the  north  the  Brenta,  on  the  south,  at  a 
further  distance,  the  Po.  Through  this  plain  flows 
the  Bacchiglione,  from  the  Alps,  along  the  northern 
side  of  the  Euganean  Hills,  then  southeastward  into 
the  Lagoon;  and  this  is  the  stream  which  of  old  was 
the  life  of  Padua,  filtering  through  it  and  around  it 
in  a  network  of  spreading  canals,  that  mark  the  suc- 
cessive extensions  of  the  city's  moats. 

A  glance  at  the  map  of  the  town  reveals  this  fact 
quite  clearly.  In  the  centre  one  sees  a  small  quadri- 
lateral, marked  out  by  the  two  arms  into  which  the 
Bacchiglione  was  first  divided  by  the  spade,  to  flow 
around  the  walls  of  the  then  little  town  and  join  again 
on  the  eastern  side.1  And  in  the  middle  of  this,  the 
oldest  portion  of  the  city,  one  sees,  as  he  would  expect, 
the  gathered  buildings  of  the  Duomo,  the  Baptistery, 
and  the  Palazzo  del  Capitanio,  with  their  piazzas; 
while  close  at  hand  rise  also  the  Municipio  and  Pal- 
azzo della  Ragione,  upon  the  ancient  piazzas  of  the 
fruit  and  vegetable  markets  (dei  Frutti  and  delle  Erbe). 
A  very  old  highway  runs  through  the  centre  from 
south  to  north,  from  the  first-mentioned  structures  to 

1  In  early  times  Padua  was  thus  watered  by  the  Bacchiglione  alone;  hut 
after  the  warring  Vicentines  had  once  or  twice  diverted  the  eourse  of  that 
stream  down  its  secondary  channel,  via  Este  and  the  Po,  leaving  the  Pad- 
uani  high  and  dry,  ami  therefore  forced  to  come  to  terms,  the  latter  in  liiH 
dug  the  si  ill  existing  canal  which  brings  the  water  of  the  Brenta,  from 
Stra,  into  the  fosses  of  the  city.  It  was  this  which  gave  the  direct  water- 
communication  with  Venice. 


2G  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

the  northern  Roman  gate  of  the  Ponte  Molino;  whence 
it  continues  through  the  medieval  gateway  of  the 
Barriers  Mazzini,  ending  eventually  at  the  modern 
railway  station.    It  is  of  various  names  in  its  different 

« 

sections,  the  northern  half  having  been  formerly 
called  Via  Maggiore,  and  lately  renamed  after  Dante. 

Around  this  oldest,  central  section  one  notes  the 
successive  extensions  of  the  city's  walls,  as  the  place 
grew  in  size,  marked  by  further  deviations  of  the 
Bacchiglione  for  moat-purposes;  there  being  thus 
added  to  the  original  town  two  sections  on  the  south 
side,  one  on  the  east,  and  one  on  the  north  and  west, 
outlining  in  all  a  space  many  times  as  large  as  the 
primordial.  Within  this  large  area,  delimited  still  by 
the  heavy  wall  and  flowing  fosse  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
the  modern  city  is  shrunk  to  but  a  quarter  of  its  Re- 
naissance extent;  and  yet  it  has  a  population  of  nearly 
ninety  thousand. 

So  much  I  had  observed  upon  former  visits;  and  I 
saw  now  that  the  electric  tramway  was  leading  us  into 
town  by  a  directly  northern  entrance.  The  scattered 
houses  of  the  suburb  toward  the  railway  station  were 
already  about  us;  we  ran  swiftly  through  the  homely 
dwellings  and  factories,  turned  to  the  left,  south- 
ward, crossed  an  arm  of  the  Bacchiglione  which  once 
served  as  the  northern  moat,  and  in  an  instant  were 
coming  to  a  stop  amongst  what  seemed  like  a  chaos 
of  Roman  ruins.  And  so  they  were;  for  we  had  stopped 
in  a  new  street  beside  the  crumbling  ancient  walls 
of  the  Roman  amphitheatre,  in  the  northern  corner  of 
the  eastern  section  of  the  city,  —  that  Arena  which 
found  its  unending  fame  centuries  after  its  original 
uses  had  terminated,  by  furnishing  the  site  and  ma- 
terial for  the  church  to  the  Madonna  which  Giotto 
made  immortal. 


THE  BRENTA  27 

The  high  old  circling  walls  of  pinkish  stone  hid 
from  our  present  view  the  church  within;  we  could 
see  only  that  other  treasure  of  Padua,  the  Church  of 
the  Eremetani,  lying  adjacent  on  the  south,  with  its 
cloisters  now  occupied  by  lolling  soldiery.  A  single 
carriage  was  in  waiting  for  chance  passengers.  Secur- 
ing this,  and  piling  our  heavy  luggage  into  it,  we 
drove  at  once  to  the  old  tavern  of  curious  name  which 
has  comforted  so  many  travelers,  —  the  Fanti  Stella 
d'Oro.  Two  blocks  to  the  south,  a  block  to  the  west, 
—  across  the  first  eastern  moat,  which  is  now  a 
picturesque  canal  between  medieval  houses,  through 
what  was  once  the  Porta  Altinate  of  the  Romans,  — 
and  we  found  ourselves  in  the  Piazza  Garibaldi,  on 
which  the  albergo  looks  down. 


CHAPTER  II 

PADUA    THE    LEARNED 

Antenor,  from  the  midst  of  Grecian  hosts 
Escaped,  was  able  safe  to  penetrate 
The  Illyrian  bay,  and  see  the  interior  realms 
Of  the  Tiburni,  and  to  pass  beyond  — 
Founded  the  walls  of  Padua,  and  built 
The  Trojan  seat,  and  to  the  people  gave 
A  name,  and  there  affixed  the  arms  of  Troy. 
Now,  laid  at  rest,  he  sleeps  in  placid  peace. 

—  Crouch's  Virgil. 

It  was  now  the  middle  of  the  afternoon.  Rather  ex- 
hausted by  the  heat  of  the  trip,  we  at  once  sought 
a  siesta  in  the  comfortable  chambers  secured  at  low 
figures,  after  ascertaining  that  that  arrangement  for 
meals  would  prevail  which  is  now  customary  in  most 
northern  Italian  towns:  viz.,  morning  cafe  complet  at 
lire  1.25,  and  tabled  la  carte  for  the  other  meals.  This 
method  is  not  only  more  satisfactory  to  most  foreign- 
ers, who  are  very  tired  of  long  table  d'hote  meals  and 
usually  fond  of  a  certain  few  dishes,  but  it  is  also  much 
more  inexpensive  for  a  party. 

By  five  o'clock  we  had  sallied  out  for  our  first  walk 
of  revisit  about  the  charming  old  city.  Our  starting- 
point,  the  Piazza  Garibaldi,  is  one  of  two  widenings 
of  that  other  main  thoroughfare  of  the  central  section 
which  curves  around  from  its  north  gate  and  along 
its  eastern  side,  just  within  the  old  eastern  moat;  Via 
Garibaldi  they  call  it,  also  Via  Otto  Febbraio  and  Via 
Roma.  It  has  become  by  accident  the  centre  of  mod- 
ern life  and  shopping.    In  its  middle  part  the  old 


PADUA  THE  LEARNED  29 

arcades  that  lined  it  have  been  done  away  with,  and 
hundreds  of  modern  shops  installed,  whose  gay  win- 
dows shine  with  finery.  Modern  well-dressed  crowds 
are  ever  pushing  along  its  sidewalks,  or  occupying 
them  with  cafe-tables,  and  in  the  evenings  it  is 
proudly  a-glitter  with  electric  lights  and  signs. 

I,  however,  wished  to  have  the  sensation  of  entering 
the  city  as  of  old,  through  its  northern  gates,  as  one 
usually  enters  from  the  railway  station ;  so  we  followed 
Via  Garibaldi  northwest  to  Via  Dante,  and  went  out 
the  latter  to  the  station;  then  turned  around.  Ap- 
proaching the  town  thus  customarily,  the  old  sights 
greeted  me  one  by  one  with  the  joy  of  recognition. 

The  chestnuts  on  the  broad  highway  were  larger 
than  ever,  hiding  the  ugliness  of  the  new,  adjacent 
suburb.  There  in  the  centre  of  the  road  was  the 
ornamental  pillar  with  its  reminiscence  of  Venetian 
loyalty,  —  the  inscription  that  tells  one:  "Here  was 
the  rampart  where  our  compatriots  defeated  Maxi- 
milian, and  revenged  the  iniquity  of  the  League  of 
Cambrai,  and  the  invasion  of  the  foreigner,  Sept.  29, 
1509."  Then  the  ramparts  loomed  up  before  us  on 
the  right,  those  marking  the  city's  greatest  exten- 
sion: huge  brick  walls,  massive  and  undecayed,  with 
a  round  bastion  at  the  corner,  and  the  moat  before 
them  still  flowing. 

We  passed  through  this  wall  by  the  lofty,  glower- 
ing, medieval,  brick  gate  known  as  the  Barriera  Maz- 
zini,  and  immediately  behind  it  saw  to  the  left  the 
familiar  mass  of  the  Church  of  the  Carmini;  while  to 
the  right  rose  the  first  suggestion  of  Ezzelino  da 
Romano,  the  still  intact  tower  of  one  of  his  twelve 
fortress-prisons,  brick  above,  upon  a  foundation  of 
enormous  Roman  stones.  I  could  hardly  repress  a 
shudder  as  I  thought  once  more  of  the  countless  tor- 


30  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

hiring  deaths  that  must  have  occurred  within  that 
masonry.  Opposite,  in  pleasant  contrast,  stood  before 
the  church  a  wreathed  statue  of  the  genial  Petrarch. 
It  reminded  me  also  of  our  own  poet,  Chaucer,  who 
is  said  to  have  met  Petrarch  in  this  city,  when  he 
"learnt  from  him  the  story  of  Griselda,  reproduced 
in  the  Clerk's  Tale."1 

A  few  more  southerly  steps,  and  we  were  on  the 
Ponte  Molino,  before  the  northern  gate  of  the  Roman 
city,  over  that  arm  of  the  Bacchiglione  which  was  the 
fosse  of  the  Roman  wall.  It  is  a  stream  here  quite 
broad  and  swiftly  flowing,  lined  with  large  trees  and 
overhanging,  decaying  houses;  a  little  restaurant  to 
the  right  extends  over  the  water  with  a  covered 
veranda,  whose  set  tables  and  flasks  suggest  happy 
carousings  of  summer  evenings.  The  foundations  of 
the  five  arches  which  thus  conducted  the  ancient  Via 
Aurelia  into  the  city,  still  show  their  Roman  work- 
manship. But  that  which  most  draws  the  eye  is  the 
huge  masonry  of  the  gate,  with  its  great  stone  blocks 
of  the  republican  era,  fitted  evenly  together,  and  its 
medieval  additions  frowning  and  crumbling  over- 
head. Here  it  was,  as  an  inscription  reminds  us, 
that  Francesco  Novello  swam  the  stream  by  night, 
entered  the  town,  and  roused  the  people  to  that 
memorable  expulsion  of  the  Milanese;  and  it  was 
from  this  tower  of  the  gateway  that  Galileo,  it  is 
said,  when  lecturing  at  the  University,  used  by  night 
to  sweep  the  heavens  with  his  glass. 

We  kept  straight  down  the  Via  Dante,  which  now 
exhibited  that  characteristic  of  the  plain-towns  which 
is  so  specially  evident  in  Padua,  —  the  colonnades 
along  the  house-fronts.  Here  they  are  often  on  both 
sides  of  the  way,  —  as  they  used  to  be,  everywhere, 

1  W.  W.  Skeat's  Chaucer. 


PADUA  THE  LEARNED  31 

in  the  Middle  Ages,  —  confining  the  street  proper  to 
a  dark  strip  hardly  ten  feet  in  width. 

They  have  a  unique  interest,  all  their  own  in  Padua, 
these  heavy  arcades  extending  for  miles,  that  give 
to  the  traveler  such  grateful  shade  from  the  burning 
summer  sun  and  shelter  from  the  storms  of  winter. 
They  are  so  clearly  the  constructions  of  every  age: 
brick  pillars,  stone  pillars,  stuccoed  pillars,  columns 
of  the  same  diversity,  columns  with  rudely  cut,  prim- 
itive capitals  of  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries, 
with  Gothic  capitals  of  the  fourteenth  and  early  fif- 
teenth, with  Renaissance  capitals  in  gradual  develop- 
ment to  the  rococoism  of  the  seventeenth;  all  bear 
the  marks  of  the  period  of  their  making,  and  remind 
one  incessantly  of  the  many  generations  of  change  and 
strife  that  have  flowed  beneath  them. 

Pursuing  our  dim  way  along  them  down  the  Via 
Dante,  past  barred  windows,  quaint  little  shops  and 
dirty  little  cafes,  we  noticed  on  the  right  a  handsome 
Gothic  palazzo  of  the  Venetian  style,  having  exquisite 
pointed  windows  in  dainty  terra-cotta  mouldings, 
including  a  central  one  of  six  lights  with  a  genuine 
Gothic  marble  balcony.  A  little  farther  on,  the  cen- 
tral Piazza  dei  Signori  suddenly  opened,  called  nowa- 
days the  Unita,  dTtalia,  and  we  found  ourselves  under 
the  old  Venetian  Lion  on  its  column,  before  the  rem- 
nant of  the  vast  bygone  palace  of  the  Renaissance 
despots,  once  famed  throughout  Italy  as  the  Reggia 
Carrarese. 

This  remnant  is  the  so-called  Palazzo  del  Capitanio, 
which  faces  the  piazza  on  the  west:  a  medium-sized 
building,  distinguished  by  a  monumental  Renaissance 
stone  gateway  of  two  stories  in  the  centre,  through 
which  leads  a  street  to  the  rear.  This  archway,  with 
its  handsome  flanking  columns,  is  considered  one  of 


32  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

the  finest  works  of  the  architect  Falconetto,  exe- 
cuted in  1523;  the  upper  part  of  the  surmounting 
tower,  however,  dates  from  the  fourteenth  century, 
and  from  it  looks  forth  the  enormous  clock  that  is 
said  to  be  the  earliest  striking  one  in  Europe.  It  was 
constructed  in  1344-64  by  a  certain  Giacomo  Dondi, 
whose  descendants  are  still  accordingly  endowed  with 
the  patronymic  of  "Dondi  dell'  Orologio."  Under 
the  clock-face  is  the  broad  inscription,  —  "Senatus 
Venetus  Andrea  Gritti  Principe,"  which  makes  that 
famous  long-gone  doge  seem  but  of  yesterday;  and 
over  that  stands  the  white  marble  relief  of  the  Lion 
of  St.  Mark. 

How  much  it  has  meant,  that  most  celebrated 
insigne,  —  and  what  extraordinary  pride  and  care 
did  the  subject  towns  display  in  showing  it.  The  first 
acts  that  Venice  did  after  conquering  a  place,  were 
to  place  the  relief  of  the  Lion  on  the  facade  of  the 
palace  of  government,  the  statue  of  the  Lion  on  a 
white  marble  column  in  the  central  piazza,  and  the 
banner  of  the  Lion  on  a  red  Venetian  mast.  Most  of 
those  statues  in  the  Veneto  were  destroyed  by  the 
Austrians  during  their  supremacy;  this  one  of  Padua 
is  a  modern  substitute,  and  the  column  is  a  relic  of  the 
Roman  Forum,  dug  up  in  1764. 

For  this  Palazzo  del  Capitanio  the  great  Palladio 
constructed  an  outside  staircase.  We  walked  through 
the  archway,  along  the  deep  brick  mass  of  the  build- 
ing, for  some  distance  to  the  rear,  and  there  finally 
discovered  what  I  had  never  noticed  before,  —  a  small 
rear  courtyard,  illumined  like  a  treasure-house  by  the 
resplendent  white  mass  and  beautiful  lines  of  the 
stairway.  It  rises  in  two  covered  flights,  straight- 
away, to  a  right-angled  landing  at  the  top,  undecorated 
save  for  the  heavy  balustrade  and  the  unfluted  Ionic 


PADUA  THE  LEARNED  33 

columns.  There  is  no  frieze,  no  sculpture;  it  is  grand 
and  beautiful  simply  from  its  perfect  proportions  and 
noble,  harmonious  lines. 

Close  beside  this  to  the  right  rises  the  detached  Li- 
brary of  the  University,  an  uninteresting  brick  build- 
ing, on  the  exterior,  but  containing  an  immense  hall 
with  frescoes  by  Campagnola,  the  pupil  of  Titian,  who 
was  one  of  the  best  of  the  late  sixteenth-century  paint- 
ers of  the  Paduan  school.  This  Sala  dei  Giganti,  like 
the  original  building  itself,  was  formerly  a  part  of  the 
mighty  Reggia;  when  it  was  frescoed  under  Jacopo  II 
della  Carrara,  by  D'Avanzi  and  Guariento,  with  sub- 
jects suggested  by  the  despot's  dear  friend,  Petrarch. 
These  were  subsequently  covered  over  by  Campag- 
nola's  work,  —  all  but  two  interesting  portraits:  one 
of  Petrarch  himself,  the  other  of  his  Paduan  disciple, 
Lombardo  della  Seta.  Nearby  remains  the  chapel  of 
the  great  palace,  also  now  occupied  by  the  University, 
and  once  frescoed  by  Guariento. 

The  Reggia  was  mainly  erected  by  Ubertino  della 
Carrara  (about  1345),  and  contained  a  score  or  two  of 
different,  connected  structures,  with  over  four  hun- 
dred rooms,  surmounted  by  an  imposing  array  of 
battlemented  towers.  Its  principal,  eastern  front  ex- 
tended from  the  Piazza  del  Duomo  on  the  south,  to  the 
Vicolo  S.  Niccold,  some  distance  north  of  the  Piazza; 
its  westward  extent  was  nearly  as  long,  to  the  Via 
dell' Accademia,  behind  the  Library.  Besides  the  offices 
of  government,  stables,  servants'  quarters,  etc.,  its 
princely  apartments  were  famed  for  that  magnificence 
of  decoration  and  furnishing  which  has  been  so  well 
described  for  us  by  the  Paduan  annalist,  Bernardino 
Scardeoni.  The  numerous  noble  courts,  arcades,  and 
flowered  gardens  complemented  its  brilliancy.  It  was 
connected  with  the  western  ramparts,  and  Ezzelino's 


34  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

castle  on  the  southwest,  by  a  covered  passage  raised 
on  further  arcades.  Yet  of  all  that  grandeur  there  sur- 
vive to-day  only  these  renovated  buildings  of  the 
Library,  the  Palazzo  del  Capitanio  —  which  was 
occupied  by  the  Venetian  Podestas  —  and  the  struct- 
ure adjoining  the  latter  on  the  south,  used  now  for  the 
Monte  di  Pieta. 

It  being  now  after  six  o'clock  the  Library  was 
closed  for  the  day;  so  we  returned  to  the  piazza,  to 
examine  the  charming  Renaissance  loggia  that  adorns 
it  upon  the  south.  This  Loggia  del  Consiglio,  as  it  is 
called,  is  in  reality  the  first  thing  to  catch  one's  eye 
on  entering  the  piazza,  so  superior  to  all  else  is  it  in 
grace  and  finish.  It  has  the  dainty  simplicity  of  the 
early  Renaissance,  having  been  constructed  about 
1493,  and  consists  of  a  deep  arcade  or  loggia,  sur- 
mounted by  a  single  upper  story  with  double  and 
triple  windows;  the  arcade  is  approached  by  a  wide 
flight  of  steps,  and  embellished  with  a  pretty  balus- 
trade and  six  monolithic  marble  columns  with  Co- 
rinthian capitals.  The  building  is  otherwise  entirely 
of  white  stone,  and  delightfully  effective,  so  much  so 
that  we  did  not  for  several  minutes  notice  the  statue 
which  it  holds  in  the  loggia  —  Vittorio  Emanuele  II 
in  his  full  regalia  as  the  Conqueror. 

We  continued  to  follow  the  Via  Dante,  passing 
immediately  on  the  right  another  fine  Renaissance 
facade  of  simple  lines,  handsome  in  spite  of  the  hid- 
eous red  boarding  of  its  upper  windows,  and  having 
a  large  ornamental  entrance,  —  the  Monte  di  Pieta; 
beyond  it  opened  soon  the  Piazza  del  Duomo,  with 
the  Cathedral  looming  on  the  west,  and  the  Bishop's 
Palace  on  the  south.  The  latter,  originally  erected 
about  1300,  was  rebuilt  in  1474,  and  contains  in  its 
grand  salon  an  excellent  example  of  a  Renaissance 


PADUA  THE  LEARNED  35 

hall,  adorned  with  a  frieze  of  fifty  portraits  of  the 
bygone  primates ;  it  holds  also  a  portrait  by  Guariento 
of  the  poet  Petrarch,  who  was,  thanks  to  Jacopo  II,  a 
canon  of  the  Cathedral,  and  dwelt  for  some  time  in  the 
House  of  the  Canons.  Neither  edifice  was  of  strik- 
ing appearance,  the  Duomo  having  but  the  unfinished 
brick  fagade  which  is  so  common.  More  interesting 
were  the  Romanesque  lines  of  the  little  ancient  brick 
Baptistery,  at  the  church's  northeast  corner,  dating 
from  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  century;  it  is  drum- 
like in  structure,  with  a  flat  dome,  and  no  ornamenta- 
tion save  two  rows  of  Byzantine  mouldings,  —  yet  it 
has  its  own  quaint  effectiveness.  Adjacent  on  the 
north  side  of  the  piazza  we  saw  a  handsome  detached 
Renaissance  archway,  of  the  Doric  order,  —  the  so- 
called  Area  Vallaresso,  which  was  erected  by  G.  B. 
della  Scala  in  1632. 

We  entered  the  Duomo.  The  flap  of  the  leathern 
curtain  admitted  us  to  that  strange  region  into  which 
a  mighty  church  transforms  itself  at  eventide  and 
vespers:  a  vast  chiaroscuro  into  which  great  pillars 
mount,  through  which  filter  dim  rays  of  red  and  pur- 
ple and  gold  from  lofty  windows,  and  where  the  glitter 
of  starlike  candles  scintillates  softly  from  gilded  altar- 
piece  and  jeweled  monstrance.  Here  and  there  in  the 
dusk  a  darker  shadow  reveals  that  higher  phenome- 
non, —  a  kneeling  spirit  in  silent  communion  with 
the  Almighty.  Seen  thus  the  simplest  building  takes 
on  a  form  and  significance  of  moving  emphasis,  recall- 
ing to  the  observer  from  the  shadowy  past  those  myr- 
iads  of  bygone  figures,  that  have  travailed  and  passed 
away. 

The  original  edifice  on  this  spot  was  a  work,  it  is 
said,  of  the  seventh  century;  which  was  reconstructed 
in  1124,  in  1  K)0,  and  finally,  in  1524-75.   The  present 


36  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

structure,  aside  from  its  size  and  fine  proportions,  is  of 
little  in  I  crest;  but  it  preserves  in  its  sacristy  a  number 
of  precious  old  reliquaries,  miniatures,  vessels,  etc., 
besides  a  group  of  pictures  of  some  worth,  by  Pado- 
vanino,  Schiavone,  Campagnola,  and  Bassano. 

On  account  of  the  dusk  it  was  now  out  of  the  ques- 
tion to  inspect  the  interior  of  the  Baptistery;  so  we 
returned  to  the  Piazza  Unita  d'  Italia,  and  traversed 
the  block  on  its  east  to  those  other  ancient  squares, 
the  Piazzas  dei  Frutti  and  delle  Erbe,  which  lie  re- 
spectively on  the  north  and  south  sides  of  the  vast 
Palazzo  della  Ragione. 

Nothing  stranger  than  this  mighty  structure  greets 
the  eyes  of  the  traveler  in  all  North  Italy;  no  amount 
of  revisiting  can  accustom  him  to  its  size.  Its  medie- 
valism is  so  apparent,  in  the  Gothic  parapet  and  the 
Romanesque  columns  and  frieze  of  the  prodigious 
logge,  that  the  mind  is  at  once  led  back  to  the  dark- 
ness of  that  twelfth  century  which  gave  it  birth,  and 
one  marvels  that  it  could  have  left  us  such  a  produc- 
tion. Apparently  four  stories  in  height,  the  whole  of 
the  upper  three  consists  of  one  immense  hall,  with 
a  curving  wooden  roof,  tinned  upon  the  outside, 
which  arches  from  one  wall  to  the  other.  The  logge, 
added  in  1306,  are  two-storied  arcades  that  extend 
along  the  entire  hundred  and  fifty  yards  of  each  side; 
the  lower  consists  of  ponderous  masonry  arches,  now 
occupied  by  shops;  the  upper,  of  a  colonnade  of  light 
marble  columns,  connected  by  a  marble  balustrade. 

Next  to  this  on  the  east  we  noticed,  in  passing,  the 
Palazzo  del  Municipio,  a  richly  ornamented  but 
irregular  building  of  the  cinquecento,  connected  with 
t lie  Salone  —  as  the  Paduans  call  the  Palazzo  della 
Ragione  —  by  a  heavy  archway  over  the  intervening 
street.    Walking  around  to  the  eastern  front  of  this 


PADUA  THE  LEARNED  37 

structure,  we  found  ourselves  on  the  Via  Otto  Feb- 
braio,  and  directly  before  the  large  building  of  the 
University  on  its  farther  side.  This  occupies  a  full 
square  block,  is  faced  with  an  interesting  late-Re- 
naissance fagade  in  stone,  and  contains  a  magnificent 
cortile  by  Jacopo  Sansovino,  —  which  was  now  shut 
to  us  by  the  lateness  of  the  hour.  We  turned  up  the 
thoroughfare  toward  the  hotel,  past  the  Post  Office 
on  our  right,  and  I  pointed  out  to  my  companions 
what  is  really  one  of  Padua's  chief  curiosities  —  the 
Caffe  Pedrocchi,  directly  opposite,  which  occupies  a 
large  stuccoed  building  between  three  streets,  faced 
with  three  handsome  Doric  porticoes,  approached  by 
flights  of  steps  and  ornamented  with  sculptured  lions. 
This  was  the  site  of  the  spacious  ancient  Forum,  bril- 
liantly laid  out  under  the  Julian  Emperors;  of  which 
significant  remains  were  discovered  during  the  caffe's 
construction. 

We  came  back  to  it  later,  after  dinner,  through  the 
crowded  way  glittering  with  a  thousand  lights,  and 
found  it  also  thronged  and  aglow,  like  a  scene  on  the 
boulevards  of  Paris.  Every  evening  while  in  Padua  we 
sat  on  one  of  its  porticoes,  consuming  coffee  and  ices, 
watching  the  well-dressed  crowds  at  their  nightly 
amusements. 

On  the  morning  after  our  first  walk,  which  had 
covered  the  approach  to  town  and  the  central  sec- 
tion, we  sallied  forth  early  for  some  interior  observa- 
tion, determined  to  commence  with  that  which  was 
earliest  and  of  greatest  importance,  —  the  frescoes  of 
Giotto.  So  we  repaired  again  to  the  ruined  Arena  on 
the  northeast, — located  just  outside  the  ancient  city, 
as  was  the  Romans'  invariable  custom,  —  and  to  the 
medieval  structures  which  had  been  built  from  its 
material. 


38  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

So  throughly  did  the  medievals  use  up  the  stones  of 
the  amphitheatre  that  we  found  now  within  its  walls 
of  enceinture  naught  but  lawns  and  flower-beds,  care- 
fully tended  by  the  municipality,  with  several  recent 
excavations,  showing  at  the  bottom  various  finds  of 
broken  columns  and  entablatures.  The  ruins  when 
more  extensive  had  been  granted  by  the  Emperor 
Henry  III,  in  1090,  to  the  Delesmanini  family  —  from 
whom  they  were  purchased  about  1300  by  one  Enrico 
Scrovegno;  he  erected  from  them  in  1303  a  chapel  to 
the  Madonna,  in  order  to  redeem,  it  is  said,  a  repu- 
tation made  by  his  father  for  miserliness  and  usury, 
—  so  bad  that  Dante  placed  him  in  the  seventh  circle 
of  his  Inferno.  Enrico  also  enlarged  and  beautified  the 
palace  of  the  Delesmanini,  occupying  the  ground 
between  the  chapel  and  the  entrance,  so  that  it  was 
long  famed  as  one  of  the  grandest  mansions  in  North 
Italy;  of  it,  however,  not  a  trace  now  remains  except 
the  pillars  of  the  gateway.  In  1306  Enrico  induced 
Giotto,  still  a  young  man  and  recently  risen  to  fame 
by  his  paintings  in  Florence  and  at  the  Vatican,  to 
come  to  Padua  and  decorate  the  chapel.  There  it 
stood  now  before  us  in  the  centre  of  the  inclosure,  a 
building  so  small  and  plain  that  one  could  hardly 
realize  its  significance  in  the  history  of  art. 

A  keeper  let  us  in  through  the  iron  railing  round- 
about, and  a  step  through  the  little  doorway  brought 
us  into  an  aisleless,  round-arched  nave,  without  col- 
umns or  chapels,  having  simply  a  slightly  raised 
tribune,  a  plain  high-altar,  and  four  plastered  walls 
from  which  the  still  bright  colors  of  the  deathless  com- 
positions glowed  down  upon  us.  They  were  lighted 
by  a  triple  Gothic  window  high  in  the  entrance-wall, 
six  lancet  windows  on  the  right  side,  and  two  in  the 
apse.    Between  the  two  last-mentioned  lay  the  tomb 


PADUA  THE  LEARNED  39 

of  Enrico  Scrovegno,  a  late  trecentist  work,  repre- 
senting him  in  the  then  accepted  fashion,  lying  in 
armor  upon  the  cover;  and  the  walls  of  the  choir  were 
covered  with  frescoes  by  some  followers  of  Giotto, 
of  no  importance. 

Giotto's  frescoes  are  confined  to  the  nave,  which 
they  illuminate  in  four  great  rows  of  separate  tab- 
leaux, thirty-nine  in  all,  beginning  at  the  top  to  the 
right  of  the  choir-arch  and  continuing  clear  around 
and  back  across  the  arch,  gradually  descending,  until 
they  end  with  the  huge  representation  of  the  Last 
Judgment  on  the  entrance  wall.  Before  this  master- 
piece of  human  genius  words  are  futile;  sensations 
vainly  struggle,  as  they  rush  across  the  consciousness, 
to  disentangle  themselves  and  stand  forth;  one  can 
only  sit  for  a  long  time  and  gaze,  gaze  with  the  whole 
soul  at  one  scene  after  another,  sinkingever  deeper  into 
the  atmosphere  of  that  wonderful  Biblical  land,  feel- 
ing ever  more  keenly  impressed  upon  one  the  infinite 
pathos  of  Jesus'  life  and  the  infinite  beauty  of  his 
character. 

In  that  these  scenes  do  depict  the  history  of  the 
lives  of  Christ  and  his  Mother,  commencing  with  the 
Rejection  of  Joachim's  offering  because  he  was  child- 
less, and  ending  with  the  Ascension,  lies  a  fact  that 
should  have  special  attention  as  a  light  upon  their 
power.  Books  have  been  written  upon  Giotto's  break- 
ing away  from  the  old  traditions  and  opening  a  new 
era  of  lifelikcness  and  individualism,  upon  his  being 
the  first  to  grasp  the  secret  of  tactile  values,  upon  his 
inception  of  the  dramatic  and  of  true  story-telling, 
upon  his  adoption  of  coloring  in  broad  masses  and 
lighter  tones,  upon  his  discovery  of  the  proper  laws 
of  composition,  <>f  the  handling  of  masses,  of  darkness 
and   light,  of  natural,  dignified  action;  and  all  these 


40  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

wondrous  inceptions  arc  seen  here  displayed.  But 
there  is  more  than  that. 

The  true  highest  end  and  aim  of  representation 
should  be,  is  bound  to  be,  the  setting-forth  of  some- 
thing spiritual,  the  striking  of  a  psychic  chord  which 
shall  vibrate  in  the  soul  of  the  observer.  This  is  the 
truth  which  William  W.  Story  seized  upon,  and  devel- 
oped in  his  remarkable  sculptures.  This  is  the  truth, 
often  unrecognized,  which  has  always  confined  good 
art  to  the  depicting  of  the  human  form,  as  the  only 
medium  by  which  the  spiritual  can  be  expressed.  In 
proportion  as  the  human  beings  represented  display  the 
higher  attributes,  and  by  their  expression  and  action 
set  forth  a  spiritual  idea  or  the  exaltation  of  a  godlike 
quality,  in  that  same  proportion  does  the  spectator 
thrill  in  response.  When  therefore  a  painter  goes  be- 
yond the  use  of  ordinary  mortals,  to  the  depicting  of 
Him  who  alone  has  been  perfectly  divine  in  life  and 
character,  whose  every  action  and  very  aspect  must 
have  radiated  spirituality  and  uplifted  all  that  beheld 
him,  the  painter  uses  the  one,  perfect,  highest  medium 
for  his  accomplishments;  so  that  if  the  work  be  well 
done,  it  must  speak  to  the  soul  of  the  spectator  as 
could  nothing  else  inanimate. 

Of  course  it  was  not  in  pursuance  of  this  truth,  now 
so  patent  to  us,  that  the  medieval  artists  devoted 
themselves  exclusively  to  Biblical  subjects,  or  that 
Giotto  covered  these  walls  with  illustrations  of  the 
lives  of  Jesus  and  the  Virgin;  but  because,  until  the 
time  of  the  full  Renaissance,  it  was  entirely  by  the 
Church  and  the  Monastery,  and  upon  the  churches 
and  the  monasteries,  that  they  were  given  their  work. 
The  vast  majority  of  the  people  were  then  unable  to 
read;  and  so,  as  in  this  Chapel,  the  Church  spread  the 
divine  story  before  them  in  pictures  which  they  could 


<JM>  M 


PADI'A.     BASILICA   OF  SAN  ANT<»1 


Till   THE  STATUE  <>r  GATTAMELATA. 


PADUA  THE  LEARNED  41 

not  fail  to  understand,  and  profit  by.  Nevertheless  it 
was  inevitable  that  Art,  when  ascending  and  expand- 
ing, should  do  so  by  the  exposition  of  the  spiritual  in 
man;  and  should  begin  to  decline  when  it  transferred 
its  representations,  as  it  did  in  the  sixteenth  century, 
to  the  mythology  of  the  heathen,  without  soul. 
Raphael's  myth  of  Cupid  and  Psyche  in  the  Corsini 
Palace  at  Rome,  just  about  marks  the  turning-point. 

Giotto,  whether  or  not  he  ever  formulated  this 
truth  to  himself  in  words,  at  any  rate  must  have 
known  and  appreciated  the  superior  power  of  expres- 
sion in  the  divine  storj-,  for  he  was  always  portraying 
it,  and  spiritual  ideas,  even  when  given  entire  latitude 
as  to  subject.  Thus,  with  his  intuitive  genius,  he  de- 
veloped an  ideal  form  of  the  Christ,  which  in  my  opin- 
ion has  never  since  been  surpassed  and  very  seldom 
equaled.  That  was  the  great  task:  to  depict  a  human 
shape  from  which  should  radiate  all  the  highest  beau- 
ties of  the  soul,  which  should  be  beautiful  in  appear- 
ance while  yet  full  of  manly  strength  and  sorrowed  by 
trials,  which  should  be  radiant  though  sad,  powerful 
though  meek,  majestic  though  lowly,  divine  though 
human. 

How  many,  many  painters  have  tried  it  in  succeed- 
ing generations,  and  are  still  trying  it !  And  when  has 
one  ever  succeeded  in  properly  combining  all  those 
opposing  qualities,  and  presenting  to  us  an  image  that 
to  our  souls  cried,  "This  is  Christ"?  Nearly  always 
the  failure  comes  in  the  inability  to  combine  with  the 
necessary  fairness  and  gentleness  that  manliness  and 
power  which  are  also  necessary.  Generally  the  result 
is  effeminate.  I  know  of  no  Christ  but  Giotto's  to 
which  my  heart  can  go  out  without  one  reservation. 

With  such  reflections  in  mind,  what  a  profound 
sense  comes  upon  one,  as  lie  examines  these  frescoes, 


4-2  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

no!  only  of  the  marvel  of  their  making  when  they 
were  done,  and  their  leadership  through  all  the  centu- 
ries, hn I  of  their  still  existing  superiority  in  the  expo- 
sition of  the  Divine,  —  in  their  power  to  thrill  the 
soul  of  the  observer.  It  is  true  that  of  the  thirty-nine 
pictures  the  first  twelve  are  devoted  to  the  life  of  the 
Virgin  before  Jesus'  birth,  —  following  the  accounts  of 
the  Apocryphal  gospels  known  as  the  "Protevan- 
gelion"  and  "Gospel  of  St.  Mary";  but  one  must 
remember  that  this  is  appropriate,  in  a  chapel  dedi- 
cated to  the  Virgin,  and  that  Giotto  must  have  aimed 
to  set  forth  one  continuous  epic,  from  the  inception 
of  her  life  to  the  culminating  Crucifixion.1 

Though  the  figures  are  about  life-size,  no  one  would 
imagine  it,  in  looking  at  them  high  upon  the  walls. 
No  more  of  them  are  put  into  any  one  picture  than  is 
necessary  for  the  idea,  with  careful  composition  and 
balancing,  and  comfortable  free  spaces;  and  the  back- 
ground, whether  of  land  or  architecture,  is  but  little 
developed,  so  that  the  eye  is  not  attracted  from  the 
characters.  The  dramatic  action  is  easy,  natural,  dig- 
nified, and  yet  of  wonderful  expressiveness;  there  is 
always  grace,  both  in  the  ensemble  and  in  the  separate 
figures;  the  colors  are  laid  on  in  Giotto's  broad  masses 
and  light  tones,  so  effective  in  wall-decoration;  the 
faces  are  all  keenly  individualized;  the  solids  and  forms 
represented  have  the  tangible  realism  and  solidity 
that  no  one  before  Giotto  attained.  Yet  above  all 
these  marvels  of  execution  and  expression  is  the  mar- 
velous figure  of  the  Saviour;  whether  raising  Lazarus, 
entering  Jerusalem  upon  the  ass,  washing  the  feet  of 
the  Apostles,  or  suffering  crucifixion,  He  is  always 

1  For  a  fuller  discussion  of  these  frescoes,  see  Ruskin's  monograph  on  the 
chapel;  or  Andrea  Mosehetti's  La  Cappella  degli  Scrovcgne  e  gli  Affrcschi  di 
Giotto  in  Essa  dipinti,  Alinari,  Florence,  1904. 


PADUA  THE  LEARNED  43 

the  perfect  man,  the  Son  of  God.  Manliness  and 
power  shine  from  Him,  while  yet  He  is  meek  and 
lowly;  all  the  qualities  that  we  would  seek,  all  the 
experiences  that  He  had  suffered,  radiate  from  that 
beautiful  countenance  which  seems  more  than  human. 

The  composition  and  dramatic  action  in  the  Rais- 
ing of  Lazarus  are  of  the  strongest  in  the  series;  there, 
too,  is  one  of  the  finest  figures  of  Christ,  in  the  very 
act  of  summoning  back  the  spirit  to  the  decaying 
body.  The  Maries  kneel  before  Him  in  fear  and  adora- 
tion, while  the  spectators  cry  aloud  in  their  amaze- 
ment. In  the  betraying  kiss  of  Judas,  the  counten- 
ance of  Jesus  while  suffering  the  kiss  turns  a  look 
upon  the  traitor  of  infinite,  sad  reproach,  that  once 
seen  can  never  be  forgotten.  The  entry  into  Jeru- 
salem has  a  realism,  in  the  people  climbing  the  palm 
trees  to  break  off  branches,  and  doffing  their  cloaks 
and  skirts  to  spread  before  the  ass's  feet,  that  makes 
one  comprehend  the  eventful  doings  of  that  day  as 
never  before. 

When  we  see  the  great  tragedy  ended  by  the  Depo- 
sition in  the  Tomb,  surrounded  by  weeping  apostles 
and  friends,  then  there  comes,  in  the  Resurrection, 
one  of  the  fine  touches  of  Giotto,  significant  of  his 
infinite  care,  —  in  that  the  form  of  the  risen  Christ, 
though  of  the  same  physical  likeness  as  before,  is  no 
longer  the  same.  It  has  become  unearthly;  and  its 
spirituality  is  clearly  marked.  This  is  so  also  in  the 
Ascension. 

In  t lie  life  of  the  Virgin  there  are  two  especially 
marked  pictures:  first,  the  meeting  at  the  Golden 
Gate  between  Joaehiin  and  Anna,  after  their  separa- 
tion, in  which  there  is  mosl  moving  pathos  in  the 
manner  in  which  I  he  elderly  couple  cling  to  each  other, 
and  Anna  fondly  holds  Joachim's  head  while  kissing 


44  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

him,  —  significant  of  the  true,  pure  love  of  the  long 
and  happily  married;  secondly,  the  Salutation  of 
Elizabeth  to  the  Virgin,  upon  the  hitter's  visit,  which 
is  full  not  only  of  pathos  but  of  profound  physiognom- 
ical meaning. 

These  frescoes  did  more  than  open  the  eyes  of  the 
world  to  the  possibilities  of  painting;  the  forms  in 
which  Giotto  cast  many  of  the  compositions  became 
types  for  those  subjects,  which  succeeding  artists 
proceeded  to  follow  for  centuries.  In  looking  at  the 
two  last-mentioned  pictures  one  has  to  remember 
that  for  generations  thereafter  the  two  meetings  be- 
came reproduced  countlessly  in  the  very  same  fashion, 
even  to  the  identical  manner  in  which  Elizabeth 
seizes  the  Virgin,  looking  into  her  face.  In  the  Vir- 
gin's presentation  at  the  Temple  we  see  for  the  first 
time  that  flight  of  steps,  with  the  waiting  high  priest 
at  the  head  of  them,  up  which  the  girlish  figure  kept 
climbing  for  so  many  succeeding  ages.  Here  is  the 
prototype  of  the  Worship  of  the  Magi,  with  the  fore- 
most kissing  the  Divine  Child's  foot,  the  other  two 
standing  in  the  rear  with  their  costly  offerings  in 
hand,  and  the  camels  of  the  caravan  behind;  of  the 
Flight  into  Egypt,  with  Mary  and  the  Child  upon  a 
donkey,  and  Joseph  walking;  of  the  realistic  Crucifix- 
ion, with  the  brutal  soldiers  parting  the  garments  on 
one  side,  and  the  Virgin  fainting  between  her  friends 
on  the  other.  Giotto  adheres  to  the  sacred  narrative 
in  that  she  is  standing,  —  "stabat  mater,"  —  but  the 
fainting  idea  became  so  seized  upon  and  developed, 
that  eventually  she  was  depicted  as  prone  upon  the 
ground.  Paolo  Veronese  was  fond  of  this  method. 

In  that  same  fresco  is  seen  one  of  Giotto's  ideas 
which,  most  unfortunately,  was  not  long  followed:  the 
representation  of  the  superhuman,  intangible  forms 


PADUA  THE  LEARNED  45 

of  the  angels,  flying  roundabout  and  consoling  the 
Sufferer,  by  showing  them  alwa\Ts  at  two-thirds  length, 
—  as  if  just  appearing  phantom-like  from  the  air.  The 
dire  results  of  neglecting  this  precept  are  well  shown 
in  the  angels  and  flying  saints  of  Tintoretto  long 
after,  which  are  portrayed  in  full  with  such  fidelity 
that  one  always  feels  that  their  heavy  bodies  are 
about  to  fall  ponderously  on  the  persons  beneath. 
Likewise  with  Giotto's  Last  Supper,  here  represented 
properly  with  the  apostles  all  around  the  table:  he 
would  not  deviate  from  truth  as  did  the  later  artists, 
in  placing  the  diners  upon  one  side  only. 

About  the  walls  of  the  nave,  under  the  lowest  series 
of  tableaux,  Giotto  also  depicted  in  separate  panels, 
in  grisaille,  fourteen  single  figures  illustrative  of  the 
Virtues  and  Vices;  monumental  works  of  their  kind, 
which  here  usually  pass  unnoticed,  but  anywhere  else 
would  stand  preeminent.  Like  the  frescoes  above,  in 
which  —  to  quote  F.  Mason  Perkins  —  "Giotto  may 
truly  be  said  not  only  to  have  perfected  the  icono- 
graphy of  Byzantium  and  the  Middle  Ages,  but  to 
have  permanently  fixed  the  laws  of  religious  compo- 
sition," so  also  in  these  figures,  "he  succeeded  in 
formulating  a  series  of  allegorical  representations 
which,  on  account  of  their  powerful  significance  of 
imagery,  were  handed  down  by  his  successors  as  gen- 
erally accepted  types  of  those  abstract  qualities  which 
they  symbolized."  ! 

I  did  not  upon  this  visit  neglect  to  examine  more 
carefully  than  theretofore  the  great  fresco  of  the  Last 
Judgment  on  the  entrance  wall,  which  Mr.  Perkins 
styles  "at  once  the  grandest  and  I  lie  most  monumental 
of  all  Giotto's  works."  High  in  the  centre  sits  the 
same  beautiful  figure  of  the  Saviour,  in  a  rcsica-piscis, 

1  F.  M.  Perkins,  Giotto. 


46  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

with  the  twelve  apostles  throned  to  right  and  left  and 
a  host  of  angels  filling  the  sky  above,  while  He  looks 
downward  with  welcoming  hand  to  the  elected  souls, 
with  the  saints  and  martyrs  at  their  head;  on  the  right 
below  is  Satan,  as  a  horned,  partly  human  form,  swal- 
lowing sinners  and  devoting  them  to  horrible  punish- 
ments; and  directly  over  the  doorway  is  the  interest- 
ing group  of  Enrico  Scrovegno  receiving  from  three 
charming  saints  the  model  of  the  chapel. 

^Ve  went  for  a  while  into  the  little  sacristy  to  the 
left  of  the  choir,  to  look  at  the  statue  of  Enrico  Scro- 
vegno, standing  in  a  niche  with  prayerful  hands:  a 
fine  example  of  the  great  Giovanni  Pisano,  —  to  whom 
is  also  attributed  the  quaint  Madonna  upon  the  altar. 
In  the  sacristy  also  was  kept  the  grand  crucifix  painted 
by  Giotto  on  wood,  which  formerly  hung  in  the  trib- 
une. Then  we  returned  to  the  chapel  door,  and  lin- 
gered a  last  moment  before  departing,  "gazing  on 
these  silent  but  eloquent  walls,  to  re-people  them  with 
the  group,  once,  as  we  know,  five  hundred  years  ago, 
assembled  within  them:  Giotto  intent  upon  his  work, 
his  wife  Cinta  admiring  his  progress,  and  Dante,  with 
abstracted  eye,  —  conversing  with  his  friend."  1 

Hours  had  passed  us  by,  and  it  was  lunch-time; 
but  in  the  afternoon,  after  a  siesta,  we  returned  to  the 
same  location,  for  a  visit  to  the  adjacent  Church  of 
the  Eremetani,  —  built  likewise  from  the  stones  of  the 
Arena.  Its  plain  facade  is  of  no  interest;  but  imme- 
diately upon  entering  I  was  struck,  as  formerly,  with 
the  strangeness  of  the  interior.  It  has,  like  the  Ma- 
donna dell'  Arena,  that  curious  characteristic  of  the 
later  thirteenth  century,  when  it  was  built,  —  an  un- 
adorned nave  without  aisles  or  columns,  having  vast 
bare  wall-spaces,  intended  to  be  brightened  with  fres- 

1  Lord  Lindsay,  Christian  Art. 


PADUA  THE  LEARNED  47 

coes,  and  once  so  covered,  but  now  coldly  and  mono- 
tonously whitewashed.  This  bareness  is  emphasized 
by  its  extraordinary  length;  and  its  arched  wooden 
roof  is  of  Oriental  style,  painted  fantastically  blue  and 
white. 

The  origin  of  that  peculiar  roof  was  this:  there 
lived  at  that  epoch  in  Padua  a  certain  Augustinian 
monk,  one  Fra  Giovanni,  who  had  visited  India  as  a 
missionary,  and  brought  back  with  him  the  design  of 
the  covering  of  an  Indian  hall.  This  design  was  first 
applied  by  the  Paduans  to  the  roofing  of  their  enorm- 
ous hall  in  the  Salone,  and  then,  as  it  solved  the 
problem  admirably,  to  this  huge  nave  of  the  Ere- 
metani,  which  would  not  appear  fantastic  but  for  the 
ridiculous  coloring.  Thereafter  it  was  copied  far  and 
wide  through  northern  Italy,  in  the  greatest  churches 
and  civic  buildings. 

Affixed  high  upon  the  walls  to  right  and  left  of  the 
entrance,  we  saw  two  fine  Gothic  tombs  of  the  Delia 
Carrara  (Ubertino  and  Jacopo  minore),  removed 
hither  from  the  destroyed  Church  of  S.  Agostino, 
Jacopo's  being  distinguished  for  its  Latin  inscription, 
composed  by  his  grateful  friend,  Petrarch.  Both  were 
sculptured  by  Andriolo  de'  Santi,  the  noted  architect 
of  the  Church  of  S.  Antonio.  On  the  entrance  wall 
itself  were  two  rather  pretty  altars  of  painted  terra- 
cotta, products  of  the  school  of  Donatello's  pupil, 
Bellano.  There  was  naught  else  to  enliven  the  nave 
but  two  or  three  simple  altars  on  each  side,  against 
the  long  blank  spaces.  The  choir,  with  its  adjacent 
chapels,  was  almost  equally  uninteresting,  having  only 
-Mine  damaged  frescoes  by  the  Byzantine-mannered 
Guariento,  although  they  are,  perhaps,  the  best  of 
hi-*  known  works. 

This  cold  nave,  however,   was  once  the  scene  of 


48  PLAIN-TOWNS   OF  ITALY 

tremendous  human  passions;  for  here  it  was  that  on 
the  day  before  Christinas,  1585,  occurred  the  penulti- 
mate act  in  the  wondrous,  terrible  drama  of  Vittoria 
Accoramboni,  —  that  drama  so  perfectly  character- 
istic of  the  unbridled  lusts  and  horrors  of  the  decaying 
Renaissance,  which  has  left  behind  it  no  worse  relic 
and  no  stronger  epitome;  that  tragedy  over  which  so 
many  authors  of  many  tongues  have  lingered,  and 
which  John  Webster  immortalized  in  his  stage-epic  of 
The  White  Devil. 

To  sum  up  what  is  so  well  known,  Vittoria  Acco- 
ramboni, —  so  famed  for  her  beauty  that  from  a  poor 
girl  of  unknown  family  she  had  become  the  wife  of 
Francesco  Peretti,  nephew  of  the  Cardinal  Montalto, 
subsequently  Pope  Sixtus  V,  —  not  satisfied  with 
such  a  rise,  schemed  with  her  brother  for  her  husband's 
assassination,  in  order  to  marry  the  brutal  Duke  of 
Bracciano,  chief  of  the  Orsini;  and,  after  escaping 
decapitation  in  prison  for  the  murder,  and  three  times 
wedding  the  duke,  following  different  papal  decrees 
annulling  the  marriage,  fled  with  him  from  the  court 
of  Sixtus  to  far-off  Padua.  Here  they  had  no  sooner 
established  themselves  and  their  retinue,  in  various 
rented  palaces  in  the  city  and  on  the  Lago  di  Garda, 
than  Bracciano  died,  —  of  poison,  it  is  supposed,  at 
the  hands  of  his  enemies;  leaving  Vittoria  well  pro- 
vided for  by  his  will,  yet  subject  to  the  power  of  his 
nephew  and  executor,  Prince  Ludovico  Orsini.  The 
latter,  who  had  bitterly  hated  her  from  the  first,  and 
opposed  her  marriage,  immediately  did  all  that  he 
could  to  thwart  and  despoil  her;  and  soon  ended  by 
invading  at  night  her  palace  near  the  Arena,  with 
forty  armed,  masked  bravos.  This  was  the  Palazzo 
Cavalli  which  still  stands  opposite  the  church,  de- 
voted nowadays  to  a  school  of  army  engineering. 


PADUA  THE  LEARNED  49 

They  found  Vittoria  at  her  prie-dieu,  costumed  for 
bed,  and  slew  her  with  many  daggers;  including  in  the 
slaughter  her  young  and  innocent  brother  Flaminio, 
as  he  sang  to  his  lute,  unconscious  of  danger.  Next 
day  the  two  corpses  were  laid  out  together  in  an  open 
coffin  in  this  Church  of  the  Eremetani;  and  all  day 
long  the  people  of  Padua  crowded  by  with  rising  ire. 
In  the  dimness  of  the  nave  I  could  almost  see  again 
that  strange,  weird  scene:  the  fair  body  of  Vittoria 
upon  the  black  velvet  pall,  its  white  exposed  breast 
gaping  redly  with  the  wounds,  —  still  so  gloriously 
lovely  in  her  crown  of  golden  hair,  that  the  gazing 
bourgeois  forgot,  as  they  looked,  her  past  of  crime, 
and  with  ever-increasing  anger  raised  their  hands,  and 
swore  revenge  upon  the  murderer. 

The  finale  quickly  followed:  Prince  Ludovico  had 
intrenched  himself  with  his  followers  in  his  palace 
hardby;  the  people  of  Padua  called  out  their  soldiers, 
armed  at  large,  and  besieged  the  murderer  with  mus- 
ket, firebrand,  and  cannon;  his  men  fell  dying,  his 
dwelling  tottered,  and  he  surrendered.  Such  was 
Padua's  Christmas  Day  of  1585.  Two  days  later, 
Prince  Ludovico  Orsini  met  his  doom  of  strangulation 
in  the  dungeons  of  Venice;  seventeen  of  his  surviving 
bravos  were  hanged,  decapitated,  and  quartered,  eight 
condemned  to  the  galleys,  and  six  to  long  terms  in 
prison.  Well  could  Webster  cry  of  those  princes 
of  the  Renaissance:  — 

These  wretched  eminent  things 
Leave  no  more  fame  behind  'em  than  should  one 
Fall  in  a  frost  and  leave  his  print  in  snow. 

What  a  contrast  to  pass  from  that  scene  to  the 
little  chapel  adjoining  the  right  transept  of  the  church, 
dedicated  to  Saints  James  and  Christopher,  —  and 
find  true  fame  immortal  blazoned  there  by  the  paint- 


50  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

cr's  quiet  brush.  Here  it  was,  about  1453,  that  Squar- 
cione  was  commissioned  by  the  Ovetari  family  to 
depict  the  lives  of  those  saints;  that  he  delegated  the 
work  to  his  pupils  Niccolo  Pizzolo,  Bono  da  Farrara, 
Ansuino  da  Forli,  and  Andrea  Mantegna;  and  that 
from  the  resulting  compositions  the  renown  of  Man- 
tegna soared  starlike  to  the  sky,  never  to  sink.  Un- 
fortunately a  number  of  the  frescoes  have  now  become 
so  much  damaged  and  erased  as  to  spoil  both  their 
details  and  their  appearance  as  a  whole;  but  enough 
still  remains,  including  several  whole  pictures  of 
Andrea's,  to  make  us  understand  how  he,  theretofore 
an  unknown  youth,  came  before  their  completion  to 
be  sought  by  the  Marchese  Gonzaga  to  ornament  his 
court  at  Mantua,  —  and  became  at  a  bound  the 
object  of  the  flocking  world's  praises. 

The  illustrations  from  the  life  of  St.  Christopher 
are  on  the  right  wall,  those  of  St.  James  on  the  left; 
Mantegna's  works  are  the  two  lowest  on  the  right, 
and  the  four  lowest  on  the  left,  —  large  panels  with 
life-size  figures,  which  show  by  their  marked  differ- 
ences in  execution  and  expression  the  great  step  for- 
ward made  by  the  youth  while  engaged  in  their  com- 
position. In  the  earlier  ones,  the  second  series  of  St. 
James,  we  notice  more  attention  given  to  the  archi- 
tecture and  landscape  than  to  the  figures,  which  are 
immobile,  rather  stiff,  and  without  expression;  but 
in  the  four  later  (including  what  we  can  decipher  of 
the  defaced  Death  and  Burial  of  St.  Christopher) 
the  human  forms  rise  to  a  positive  grandeur  in  their 
graceful  dignity,  individuality,  and  power.  Above  all 
is  their  marvelous  solidity,  which  has  a  finished  real- 
ism that  delights  the  rested  eye. 

The  middle  series  on  the  left  —  St.  James  baptizing 
a  convert  in  the  street,  and  appearing  before  Herod  — 


PADUA  THE  LEARNED  51 

have  in  spite  of  their  statuesqueness  a  beauty  all  their 
own,  in  the  splendid  perspective,  the  realism  of  the 
buildings  and  the  countryside,  the  pleasing,  balanced 
composition,  and  the  most  extraordinary  use  (for  that 
period)  of  actual  light  and  shade.  In  the  very  real 
soldier  who  stands  alone,  turning  his  head  away  from 
Herod  as  though  in  grief  and  disapproval,  one  sees 
the  countenance  of  Mantegna  himself,  as  he  was  then, 
a  youth  of  twenty-five;  and  what  better  than  that 
lined,  worn  face  could  tell  one  of  his  young  years  of 
unceasing  application  and  study. 

Likewise,  as  the  legend  has  it,  the  broad  counten- 
ance of  Squarcione  is  visible,  in  the  Execution  of  St. 
Christopher,  upon  the  burly  soldier  with  spear  in 
hand,  who  is  looking  over  his  shoulder  at  the  rather 
amusing  bulk  of  the  condemned  giant-saint,  which 
they  are  vainly  trying  to  fill  with  arrows.  The  latter 
are  not  merely  stopped  miraculously  in  the  air,  but 
one  of  them  has  flown  back  into  the  eye  of  the  watch- 
ing and  blaspheming  king.  This  can  barely  now  be 
discerned.  The  execution  of  St.  James  has  more  pa- 
thos, as  he  lies  on  the  ground,  with  the  uplifted  mallet 
about  to  descend  and  dash  out  his  brains;  and  the 
head  of  the  saint  projects  from  the  wall  in  a  manner 
that  is  genuinely  startling.  To  left  of  this  he  is  on  his 
way  to  execution,  and  has  stopped  in  a  crowded  city 
street  to  heal  a  suppliant  unfortunate;  in  this  scene 
there  is  a  remarkable  disposition  of  grouping  and 
thronged  movement,  with  the  same  fine  realism  as 
to  buildings  and  perspective,  and  a  very  easy,  pow- 
erful, dramatic  action.  Through  all  the  pictures  runs 
Mantegna's  greal  characteristic,  which  so  many  paint- 
ers strive  alter  to-day,  —  the  depicting  of  the  clothed 
human  form  so  that  the  observer  is  clearly  conscious  of 
the  body  beneath,  in  all  its  solidity  and  articulations. 


PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

The  other  frescoes  in  the  chapel  are  of  importance 
only  to  show  one  the  tendencies  of  Squarcione's 
school,  and  emphasize  how  far  Mantegna  rose  above 
them.  Besides  the  upper  panels  of  the  lives  of  Saints 
James  and  Christopher,  —  the  former  executed  by 
Ansuino  and  Bono  da  Ferrara,  —  they  consist  of  repre- 
sentations of  the  four  evangelists  on  the  ceiling,  and 
some  excellent  work  by  Pizzolo  on  the  wall  and  vault- 
ing of  the  apse  behind  the  altar;  including  a  large 
Assumption  of  the  Virgin  in  which  she  is  drawn  with 
much  tactile  value  and  dignity.  Good  critics  also 
attribute  to  Pizzolo  the  two  first  scenes  concerning 
St.  James. 

On  finishing  the  examination  of  this  chapel,  we 
had  done  with  the  sights  of  the  northeastern  quarter; 
and  when  we  resumed  our  walk  upon  the  following 
morning,  I  took  my  companions  back  to  the  central 
section,  to  visit  the  interiors  which  we  had  there 
omitted.  We  started  south  down  Via  Garibaldi, 
but,  just  before  reaching  the  nearby  Piazza  Cavour, 
stepped  up  the  narrow  Via  S.  Andrea  to  the  right  for 
a  short  distance,  to  see  a  mutilated,  ancient,  sculp- 
tured figure  of  a  cat,  —  unmistakably  a  cat,  of  heroic 
size,  —  seated  upon  a  column  cut  from  the  same  kind 
of  gray  stone,  old  enough  apparently  to  date  from 
Roman  days.  This  was  the  famed  "Gatta  di  S.  An- 
drea," —  originally  intended  to  be  a  lion,  the  device 
of  the  surrounding  ward,  —  which  was  raised  in  1212 
to  celebrate  the  citizens'  victory,  with  Ezzelino,  over 
Aldobrandino  d'  Este. 

Returning  to  Via  Garibaldi,  we  went  on  to  the 
University,  whose  doors  were  now  open,  and  a  stream 
of  students  passing  in  and  out.  As  we  entered  through 
the  large  deep  archway  to  the  central  court,  flanked  by 
four  Doric  half-columns  supporting  a  heavy  entabla- 


PADUA  THE  LEARNED  53 

ture,  I  thought  of  how  many,  many  generations  that 
stream  of  eager,  aspiring  youth  had  been  so  passing,  — 
even  since  before  the  days  of  Dante,  —  and  reflected 
upon  the  airs  of  antiquity  assumed  by  some  modern 
universities  that  can  boast  of  a  century's  existence. 
Even  the  curious,  loving  nickname,  bestowed  on  this 
one  of  Padua  by  the  students  and  people,  —  27  Bo,  — 
dates  from  a  famous  tavern,  with  the  sign  of  the  ox, 
that  existed  on  this  spot  more  than  four  hundred  years 
ago.  Up  to  1493  the  various  component  schools  were 
scattered  about  the  city ;  but  in  that  year  the  Venetian 
Government,  as  one  of  the  first,  wise  moves  in  its  new 
possession,  collected  them  all  into  the  large  building 
theretofore  occupied  by  the  "Osteria  del  Bo."  The 
edifice  subsequently  underwent  many  reconstructions, 
receiving  the  present  dignified  facade  in  the  latter  part 
of  the  sixteenth  century.  The  number  of  students  is 
now  about  fourteen  hundred,  comparing  well  with  the 
largest  institutions  of  other  countries  to-day,  but  a 
shrinkage  indeed  from  the  eighteen  thousand  reported 
to  us  from  the  Early  Renaissance. 

The  striking^  beautiful  central  court  that  we 
entered  dates  from  the  cinqnecento,  by  the  hands  of 
the  great  Sansovino;  two  stories  of  rhythmical  white 
colonnades  with  rounded  arches,  the  lower  of  the 
Doric  order,  the  upper  of  Ionic,  flashed  down  upon 
us  from  all  four  sides  their  charming  lines  with  reliev- 
ing shadows;  the  pedestals  of  the  Ionic  columns  were 
sculptured  with  reliefs,  and  between  them  stretched 
a  handsome  balustrade;  the  Doric  frieze  of  the  first 
story  was  ornamented,  in  the  spaces  between  the 
customary  triglyphs,  by  circles,  globes,  musical  instru- 
ments and  bucrania,  —  sure  mark  of  the  commenced 
Decadence,  as  was  also  the  line  of  lions'  heads  above 
the  upper  columns,  with  conventional  designs  inter- 


54  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

laced  between.  The  cornice  was  small,  and  made  of 
acanthus  consoles  at  intervals.  Round  about  the 
four  walls  hung  countless  armorial  bearings  of  by- 
gone prominent  graduates,  and  over  the  balustrade 
hung  groups  of  present  undergraduates,  in  earnest 
discussion. 

We  mounted  the  staircase  to  the  upper  story,  and 
visited  the  great  hall  of  the  University,  on  the  court's 
eastern  side:  a  magnificent  chamber,  with  a  large 
rostrum,  many  curving  rows  of  fine  seats,  and  a  richly 
painted  ceiling;  the  four  walls  being  closely  studded 
with  the  wooden,  gilded  coats  of  arms  and  crests  of 
former  generations,  hundreds  upon  hundreds,  glis- 
tening with  gold-leaf  and  animated  by  countless 
strange  heraldic  figures.  The  portiere  pointed  out  to 
us  a  number  of  crests  of  celebrated  personages  of  the 
Renaissance.  Here  Galileo  taught  mathematics,  from 
1598  to  1608.  Women  sometimes  in  those  days  at- 
tended here  also,  —  as  we  had  noticed,  in  ascending 
the  staircase,  by  the  statue  of  the  famed  Elena 
Lucrezia  Piscopia,  who  on  account  of  her  remarkable 
erudition  received  here  a  doctor's  degree  about  the 
middle  of  the  seventeenth  century,  —  one  of  the 
earliest  to  be  bestowed  upon  the  gentler  sex. 

The  portiere  then  accompanied  us  to  the  top-floor 
front,  where  we  saw  one  of  Padua's  most  interesting 
relics:  the  first  anatomical  arena  ever  constructed  in 
Europe,  —  in  1482,  —  whose  lines  have  been  followed 
by  all  succeeding  ones:  six  tiers  of  oval  wooden 
benches  with  railings,  rising  steeply  one  above  the 
other  to  the  ceiling,  with  the  operating-table  in  the 
confined  central  space,  placed  on  a  trap-door  by 
which  it  could  be  raised  from  a  basement  below  with 
the  body  already  in  position.  The  whole  construction 
was  of  wood,  now  cracked  and  worn  by  time,  but 


PADUA  THE  LEARNED  55 

still,  after  four  centuries  and  more  of  use,  in  surpris- 
ingly good  condition.  As  I  thought  of  the  brilliant 
light  that  had  spread  from  this  room  into  the  modern 
knowledge  of  the  human  body,  —  while  we  slowly 
descended  the  stairs  and  left  the  famous  precincts,  — 
Shelley's  lines  passed  through  my  mind:  — 

In  thine  halls  the  lamp  of  learning, 
Padua,  no  more  is  burning;  — 
Once  remotest  nations  came 
To  adorn  that  sacred  flame.  — 
Now  new  fires  from  antique  light 
Spring  beneath  the  wide  world's  might. 

Traversing  the  passage  along  the  left  side  of  the 
Municipio  opposite,  we  came  at  once  to  the  Piazza 
delle  Erbe  and  the  south  side  of  the  mighty  Salone, 
where  a  wide  outside  staircase  ascends  to  its  hall. 
Mounting  this,  we  rang  a  bell  by  a  hanging  cord,  and 
were  admitted  by  a  woman  keeper  for  a  small  fee,  — 
stepping  from  the  first-floor  loggia  immediately  into 
the  vast  inclosure.  As  my  eye  swept  over  its  ninety- 
one  yards  of  length,  thirty  yards  of  width,  and  thirty- 
two  yards  of  height,  to  the  gigantic  wooden  span  over- 
head, I  wondered  again  how  the  medievals  could  ever 
have  done  it.  In  such  a  space  the  two  colossal,  black- 
stone,  Egyptian  statues  of  Neith  by  the  doorway 
looked  nothing  unusual,  and  the  giant  wooden  model 
of  Donatello's  horse  for  the  Gattamelata  statue,  at  the 
west  end,  seemed  no  more  than  life-size.  The  acreage 
of  floor  was  increased  to  the  eye  by  the  lack  of  all 
furniture;  naught  encumbered  it  except  the  statues 
mentioned,  and  a  curious  dark-stone  pedestal  in  the 
northeasl  corner,  —  the  Lapis  Vituperii,  upon  which 
for  centuries  defaulting  debtors  were  stood  in  the 
piazzas,  to  be  cleared  from  insolvency  by  the  fire  of 
their  creditor's  tongues. 


56  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

All  around  the  immense  walls,  in  three  hundred  and 
nineteen  separate  compartments,  run  fully  as  curious 
quattrocento  frescoes,  by  one  Zuan  Miretto  and  another, 
representing  the  signs  of  the  Zodiac  and  other  astro- 
nomical bodies,  of  allegorical  meaning.  It  was  these 
walls,  or  this  roof,  that  Giotto  once  tinted  with  his 
magic  brush,  —  a  labor  marvelous  for  size  as  well  as 
beauty,  if  he  covered  all  the  space;  but  a  fire  in  1420 
destroyed  the  work,  leaving  us  with  no  conception  of 
what  would  have  been  one  of  the  world's  chief  treas- 
ures. The  hall  had  just  then  been  rebuilt,  when  Giotto 
worked  upon  it;  originally  three  chambers,  they  had 
been  converted  into  one  in  1306,  with  the  aid  of  the 
wide  roof  whose  design  Fra  Giovanni  brought  back 
from  India.  There  above  us  it  still  sprang  from  wall 
to  wall,  a  mighty,  open-woodwork  construction,  in  the 
same  lines  as  that  of  the  Eremetani,  mounting  from 
each  side  to  the  peak  in  a  succession  of  half -arches, 
one  upon  another. 

How  dusty,  bare,  silent,  and  deserted  was  this 
strange  place  which  has  held  such  priceless  artistic 
treasure,  "where  the  very  shadows  seem  asleep  as 
they  glide  over  the  wide,  unpeopled  floor,  [and]  it  is 
not  easy  to  remember  that  this  was  once  the  theatre 
of  eager  intrigues,  ere  the  busy  stir  of  the  old  burg 
was  utterly  extinguished."1 

We  went  down  to  examine  Donatello's  wooden 
horse,  -  -  a  huge,  lifelike  figure  with  a  modern  head, 
teeming  with  muscular  energy,  which  was  praised  by 
poets  to  the  skies  when  it  came  from  the  master's 
hand,  the  first  man-made  charger  since  ancient  days. 
Behind  it  to  the  right,  on  the  end  wall,  we  noticed  a 
little  monument  to  Livy,  containing  the  bones  of  his 
freedman  Titus  Halys,  which  were  when  first  found 

1  J.  A.  Symonds,  Fine  Arts,  chap,  n,  p.  60. 


PADUA  THE  LEARNED  57 

mistaken  for  the  historian's.  Other  Roman  relics  and 
inscriptions  line  the  walls  of  the  loggia  without,  on 
the  north  side,  where  we  looked  down  upon  the 
flocked  toadstool-covers  of  the  market-stands  in 
Piazza  dei  Frutti,  and  the  morning  pandemonium  of 
the  bartering  populace  rose  to  our  ears. 

Descending,  we  made  our  way  through  the  crowd 
westward  to  Via  Dante  and  the  Duomo.  The  piazza 
before  the  latter  was  vacant  and  silent  as  ever,  and 
the  sun  poured  into  it  somnolently;  three  soldiers 
were  in  fact  asleep  together  before  the  triumphal  arch 
of  the  Carrara.  I  found  the  sacristan  within  the 
Duomo,  and  brought  him  out  to  let  us  into  the  an- 
cient, round  Baptistery,  which  is  always  kept  locked. 

Exclamations  of  astonishment  burst  from  my  com- 
panions' lips  as  we  stood  in  that  strange  cubic  nave, 
of  the  twelfth  century,  gazing  at  its  quadrangular 
walls  and  flat  dome:  the  whole  structure, every  square 
inch  of  its  surface  above  the  wainscoting,  —  on  walls, 
dome,  entranceway,  presbytery,  chapels,  even  to  the 
soffits  of  all  the  arches  opening  into  the  chapels,  — 
was  covered  with  vivid,  dramatic  frescoes  that  irra- 
diated the  dusk  with  countless  colors!  Never  have  I 
seen  another  building  so  completely  painted;  a  huge 
flower-garden,  it  has  properly  been  called.  But  if  now 
so  exuberant  in  hues,  what  must  it  have  been  when 
Giusto  Padovano  first  did  this  work,  in  1378,  more 
than  five  centuries  ago. 

He  was  not  a  first-class  artist;  his  drawing  was 
faulty,  his  compositions  ill-arranged,  his  work  lacking 
in  grace,  lif< 'likeness  and  natural  expression;  but  what 
a  world  of  energy,  dramatic  exposition,  and  true, 
deep  feeling,  was  poured  into  these  representations  of 
the  sacred  story,  —  and  still  shines  from  their  earnest 
figures,  straight  to  the  heart  of  the  observer.    No- 


58  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

where  have  I  seen  a  more  perfect  setting-forth  of  that 
profound  religious  emotion  which  the  Renaissance  at 
iirst  excited  in  the  trecento  Italians.  The  work,  it  is 
true,  was  considerably  retouched  by  Luca  Brida  in  the 
eighteenth  century,  —  to  which  are  due  its  present 
bright  colors;  but  he  was  singularly  careful  not  to 
injure  the  lines  of  the  master. 

The  cycle  is  commenced  on  the  southern  wall  by 
the  portrayal  of  the  life  of  John  the  Baptist,  and  con- 
tinued on  the  northern  and  western  walls  and  the 
chancel  arch  of  the  eastern,  by  those  of  the  Virgin 
and  the  Saviour;  the  small  chamber  of  the  chancel  is 
lined  on  all  sides  with  some  forty  scenes  of  the  Apo- 
calypse,—  "the  most  complete  and  comprehensive 
illustration  of  the  Apocalypse  ever  attempted  in 
painting,"1  —  and  its  cupola  contains  the  customary 
Descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost;  while  the  lower  parts  of 
the  dome  of  the  nave  are  adorned  with  the  history 
of  the  Book  of  Genesis,  as  far  as  the  placing  of  Joseph 
in  the  well,  and  its  centre  holds  a  remarkable,  serried 
Gloria.  In  the  last,  "Our  Saviour  stands  in  the 
centre,  within  a  circle  of  light,  and  below  Him,  in  a 
vesica  piscis,  the  Virgin,  erect,  with  her  hands  raised 
in  prayer,  as  at  St.  Mark's  and  in  the  Duomo  of 
Murano.  To  their  right  and  left  sit,  in  different  atti- 
tudes, and  with  their  distinctive  emblems,  the  saints 
of  God,  male  and  female,  five  rows  deep,  in  a  vast 
circle;  the  effect  is  singularly  brilliant,  and  reminds 
one  of  Dante's  comparison  of  the  church  in  heaven  to 
a  snow-white  rose." '  This,  says  the  same  distin- 
guished author,  "is  the  first  instance,  I  believe,  of  the 
style  of  composition  subsequently  adopted  by  Cor- 
reggio  and  later  painters,  but  originally,  as  in  the 
present  instance,  imitated  from  the  mosaics." 

1  Lord  Lindsay,  Christian  Art. 


PADUA  THE  LEARNED  59 

Besides  this,  perhaps  the  first  painted  Gloria,  of  most 
interest  to  us  were  the  fervid,  energetic  tableaux  of  the 
sacred  lives,  so  rich  in  significant  incident  and  earnest 
feeling  as  to  impress  one  in  spite  of  all  their  faults. 
Through  them  all  shone  forth  the  preponderating  in- 
fluence and  example  of  Giotto;  nearly  everywhere  a 
repetition  of  his  ideas  of  composition,  expression,  and 
color;  below  Altichieri  also  in  their  setting-forth,  yet 
bearing  the  distinctive  marks  of  the  emotion  behind 
the  hand  that  drew  them.  Here  were  already  again 
the  Child-Virgin  on  her  way  up  the  temple  steps  to 
the  waiting  high  priest,  the  Last  Supper  with  the 
sleeping  St.  John  upon  Jesus'  breast,  and  a  Betray- 
ing Kiss  of  Judas  practically  identical  with  that  of 
the  Arena;  there  were  other  scenes,  however,  which 
Giotto  had  not  represented,  and  in  which  Giusto 
shows  himself  capable  of  original  composition. 

From  this  building  we  went  on  to  the  only  remaining 
sight  of  interest  in  the  central  section,  the  large  castle 
of  Ezzelino  in  its  southwest  corner,  whose  grim  battle- 
mented  tower  still  glowers  down  over  the  whole  city 
as  when  that  devil  kept  it  filled  with  tortured  suf- 
ferers. This  keep,  however,  is  about  all  that  one  can 
see  of  it,  for  the  original  castle  has  been  rebuilt  and 
inclosed  with  later  and  more  extensive  structures, 
which  arc  occupied  as  barracks  and  an  astronomical 
observatory;  the  walls  of  Ezzelino  being  visible  on  the 
south  and  west  sides  only,  where  they  back  darkly 
upon  two  arms  of  the  first  city  moat.  There  were 
originally  two  towers,  of  great  height  and  strength, 
which  the  people  called  the  Zilie,  after  their  architect; 
one  of  them  was  demolished  in  the  sixteenth  century, 
and  the  other  reduced  to  its  present  si/.e  in  17(>!>,  when 
adapted  to  observatory  uses.  The  extensive  and  ter- 
rible  mass  of  dungeons  which  Zilio  constructed  under- 


CO  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

ground,  he  himself  was  one  of  the  first  doomed  pris- 
oners to  enter.  They  must  still  exist,  in  large  part, 
though  sealed  from  modern  eyes. 

We  wandered  thence  for  a  while  through  the  narrow 
winding  ways  of  the  southeastern  portion  of  the 
central  section,  —  the  most  ancient  part  of  Padua; 
true  medieval  ways  of  dirt  and  shadows,  too  con- 
fined for  arcades,  leaned  over  by  high,  gaunt,  stone 
dwellings  or  walls  of  crumbling  stucco,  with  an  occa- 
sional larger  palace  of  Renaissance  days  in  more  pre- 
tentious lines.  This  quarter  continues  across  the  arm 
of  the  Bacchiglione  forming  the  first  eastern  city  moat, 
into  the  southerly  part  of  the  town's  eastern  addition; 
and  into  this  part  I  took  my  companions  after  lunch, 
by  way  of  the  Via  S.  Francesco,  which  runs  south- 
eastward from  the  University. 

Hard  behind  the  buildings  of  the  University,  the 
ancient  moat,  now  a  picturesque  narrow  stream  of 
muddy  water,  creeps  between  decaying  backs  of 
medieval  houses  and  frequent  leafy  gardens;  and 
immediately  beyond  this,  we  came  upon  the  very 
dwelling  which  Dante  occupied  when  living  in  Padua, 
six  centuries  ago:  an  excellently  preserved,  stuccoed 
palace  of  Gothic  lines,  the  windows  with  tracery  in 
their  pointed  arches  which  clearly  had  been  renewed 
in  ironwork.  This  modern  touch,  and  the  fresh-looking 
grayish  paint  over  all,  made  it  difficult  for  the  mind  to 
grasp  that  in  those  very  walls  had  worked  and  slept 
the  author  of  the  Divine  Comedy. 

Opposite,  on  the  south  side  of  the  street,  in  a  recess 
at  a  house  corner,  stands  a  relic  still  older:  an  ancient 
stone  sarcophagus,  surmounted  by  pillars  supporting 
a  brick  trecento  canopy,  —  which  is  thoroughly  be- 
lieved by  most  Paduans  to  contain  the  remains  of 
their  Trojan  founder,  Antenor.   I  tested  the  truth  of 


PADUA  THE  LEARNED  61 

this  by  inquiring  of  a  number  of  passing  citizens;  their 
responses  were  as  positive  as  unanimous.  As  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  however,  the  sarcophagus  was  unearthed 
in  1274,  while  digging  a  cellar,  and  in  it  "was  found  a 
skeleton  of  mighty  size,  still  grasping  a  sword,  with 
a  crude  Latin  inscription  from  which  the  excited 
populace  insisted  that  this  was  the  tomb  of  Antenor. 
Modern  criticism  looks  upon  it  as  the  burial-place  of 
some  Hungarian  invader  of  the  ninth  century."  1 

A  few  paces  beyond  this  diverges  to  the  right, 
southward,  the  Via  del  Santo;  and  we  slowly  followed 
it  to  that  great  block  of  buildings,  which  in  the  minds 
of  the  Italians  distinguishes  Padua  far  beyond  the 
rest  of  her  possessions,  and  which  is  certainly  for  us 
next  in  interest  to  the  frescoes  of  Giotto :  the  enormous 
church  and  cloisters  of  St.  Anthony  of  Padua,  with 
their  attendant  courts  and  chapels.  Stretching  over 
acres  upon  acres  of  ground,  they  form  one  of  the  most 
celebrated  groups  of  edifices  in  all  Italy,  and  a  saintly 
shrine  second  only  to  that  of  St.  Francis  of  Assisi. 

1  C.  Hare,  Dante  the  Wayfarer. 


CHAPTER  III 

PADUA   AND    S.    ANTONIO 

"  And  whither  journeying  ?"  —  "  To  the  holy  shrine 
Of  Sunt'  Antonio  in  the  city  of  Padua." 

—  Samuel  Rogers,  Italy. 

It  is  difficult  for  a  foreigner  to  realize  how  large  a  part 
St.  Anthony  occupies  in  the  Italian  Catholic  mind, 
until  he  has  lived  for  some  time  in  the  country,  and 
visited  this  city  where  the  saint  labored  and  died. 
St.  Anthony  was  a  follower  of  St.  Francis;  but  far 
greater  than  that  which  repairs  to  Assisi  is  the  steady 
concourse  of  pilgrims  who  throng  to  Padua  year  after 
year,  to  lay  their  hands  in  prayer  against  the  sar- 
cophagus containing  the  sacred  relics;  and  extensively 
as  the  Church  of  St.  Francis  has  been  adorned  by  the 
great  artists  of  the  past,  far  more  so  has  been  this 
church  of  his  follower,  until  the  devotion  of  six  centu- 
ries has  gathered  here  one  of  earth's  grandest  collec- 
tions of  artistic  treasures.  The  impulse  of  Cathol- 
icism to  beautify  its  holy  places  has  found  here  a  most 
remarkable  exposition. 

He  was  a  Portuguese  —  St.  Anthony  —  whose 
thoughts  turned  to  self-sacrifice  and  religious  zeal 
from  his  very  childhood;  first  betaking  himself  as  a 
missionary  to  the  fanatical  Moors,  then  obliged  by 
illness  to  return  to  Europe,  a  happy  wind  drove  his 
vessel  to  the  northern  shores  of  Italy,  where  he  was 
attracted  to  Assisi  by  the  fame  of  St.  Francis's 
preaching,  and  at  once  embraced  the  latter's  cause 
with  unequaled  ardor.  Far  and  wide  then  he  traveled 
for  years,  in  the  Franciscan  habit,  preaching  with  a 


PADUA  AND  S.  ANTONIO  63 

fervor  that  converted  whole  multitudes,  and  whole 
cities  in  a  body,  until  the  fame  of  his  sanctity  became 
second  to  that  of  St.  Francis  only.  Miraculous  powers 
were  attached  to  him  by  the  people;  and  eventually 
his  life  and  holy  deeds  became  one  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful legends  of  the  Church.  Countless  are  the  miracles 
attributed  to  him,  and  thoroughly  believed  in  by  the 
devout;  one  often  portrayed  is  that  of  his  preaching 
to  the  fishes  of  the  sea,  who  rose  to  the  surface  to  listen 
to  him,  when  the  inhabitants  of  Rimini  would  not; 
many  others  are  of  dead  persons  restored  to  life,  — 
a  young  girl  that  had  been  drowned,  a  child  that  had 
been  scalded,  a  noble  lady  stabbed  by  her  husband, 
a  vouth  slain  by  the  brother  of  his  inamorata,  etc. 
Well  known  is  the  story  of  the  heretic  Boradilla,  who 
required  a  miracle  to  remove  his  doubts;  and  St. 
Anthony,  with  the  Host  in  hand,  at  once  by  a  word  of 
command  forced  the  mule  which  Boradilla  was  driving 
to  kneel  before  the  sacred  object. 

The  latter  years  of  the  Saint's  life  were  spent  in 
Padua,  where  he  greatly  comforted  the  inhabitants  in 
their  horrible  existence  under  Ezzelino,  and  fearlessly 
confronted  that  tyrant  himself  with  the  memorable 
words:  "O  most  cruel  tyrant,  and  mad  dog!  the  ter- 
rible sentence  of  God  hangs  over  thee.  When  wilt 
thou  cease  to  spill  the  blood  of  innocent  men?" 
Whereupon  "they  saw  the  monster,  whom  all  feared, 
fall  upon  his  knees,  with  a  cord  about  his  neck,  before 
the  man  of  God,  confessing  his  sins  and  imploring 
pardon."1  Even  after  his  death  the  Saint  continued 
to  appear  and  sustain  the  Paduans  under  Ezzelino's 
continued  cruelties.  He  died  a1  the  early  age  of  thirty- 
six,  in  1281,  exhausted  by  his  life  of  hardship  and  sac- 
rifice; and  the  very  next  year  was  canonized,  and  the 

1  Perkins,  Tuscan  Sruljitors. 


G4  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

vast  church  to  contain  his  shrine  commenced  by  the 
devoted  people,  —  who  have  ever  since  called  him  by 
DO  other  name  than  "II  Santo."  He  was  exceedingly 
fond  of  children,  was  often  supported  in  his  trials  by 
visions  of  the  infant  Christ,  and  is  not  only  therefore 
identified  with  child-life  and  love,  but  usually  repre- 
sented as  carrying  the  little  Jesus  in  his  arms. 

The  first  sight  of  the  mighty  temple  erected  over 
his  remains  is  always  an  amazing  one.  My  companions 
were  duly  surprised,  as  we  came  upon  it  behind  its 
wide,  stone-paved  piazza  at  the  south  end  of  the  Via 
del  Santo,  —  so  gigantic  was  the  mass  of  buildings, 
so  lofty  the  gabled  peak  of  the  church,  crowned  by  its 
extraordinary  throng  of  Oriental  pointed  domes  and 
minarets,  whose  blue  spires  soared  from  every  part 
into  the  bluer  sky,  and  made  the  whole  edifice  seem 
a  creation  of  dreamland.  S.  Marco  of  Venice  was 
clearly  responsible  for  the  design,  as  it  has  fathered 
so  many  Byzantine-domed  structures  over  the  terri- 
tories of  Venetia. 

The  church  faces  westward,  with  the  extensive 
piazza  before  it  and  upon  the  north,  along  the  south- 
ern side  of  which  run  the  adjacent  lower  buildings 
containing  the  chapel  of  S.  Giorgio,  the  Scuola  del 
Santo,  and  the  part  of  the  monastery  made  over  into 
the  city's  museum  of  fine  arts.  First  to  attract  our 
attention,  however,  after  the  soaring  domes  and  min- 
arets, was  the  fine  bronze  equestrian  statue  rising 
upon  a  very  high  stone  pedestal,  opposite  the  north- 
western angle  of  the  fagade,  —  a  wonderful  war-horse 
of  heroic  size,  mounted  by  a  stern-visaged  knight 
whose  presence  commanded  the  whole  inclosure.  It 
was  the  Gattamelata  of  Donatello.  What  a  marvel- 
ous work  —  so  perfectly  life-like,  so  vigorous  and 
powerful,  so  dominating!  the  first  bronze  horseman 


PADUA  AND   S.   AXTOXIO  65 

since  the  days  of  Rome,  vet  after  four  centuries  of 
existence  still  unsurpassed. 

We  turned  from  it  to  consider  the  facade,  which  is 
one  of  the  most  unusual  of  North  Italy,  partly  in  that 
it  is  constructed,  like  the  rest  of  the  edifice,  of  a 
strange  brick  of  yellowish  hue,  —  "a  most  vile  ma- 
terial wherewith  to  attempt  the  construction  of  a 
noble  church.  Stone  is  used  very  sparingly  in  the 
voussoirs  of  the  arches,  etc."  !  The  great  Niccolo 
Pisano  was  the  architect,  however,  and  has  not  failed 
to  give  us  a  Gothic  facade  of  imposing  lines.  Its  most 
striking  feature  is  a  charming  colonnade,  of  pointed 
arches  upon  slim  marble  shafts,  with  light  marble 
balustrades  between  the  shafts  and  above  it,  —  which 
crosses  just  below  the  gable;  below  this  are  four  huge, 
recessed  Gothic  arches,  the  two  outer  wider  than  the 
inner  ones,  and  between  the  two  inner  a  lower, 
rounded,  recessed  doorway,  topped  by  a  rounded 
niche  containing  an  ancient  statue  of  the  Saint.  In 
the  outer  arches  are  two  small,  rectangular  side  door- 
ways, each  with  two  deep  lancet  windows  overhead; 
while  each  of  the  inner  arches  contains  a  single  lancet 
opening,  still  narrower  and  longer.  Above  the  colon- 
nade, the  gable  holds  a  simple  rose-window,  with  a 
double  Gothic  one  on  each  side,  of  trefoil  lights,  and 
—  with  that  variation  which  ever  in  Italy  accom- 
panies the  Gothic  —  a  Romanesque  cornice  of  little 
round  arches  along  the  sloping  eaves.  From  the  peak 
soars  8  three-storied  minaret  with  an  acute  spire, 
barked  by  one  of  the  looming  domes,  tinned,  and 
painted  azure.  Prom  the  intersection  of  the  nave  with 
the  wide  transept  rises  a  hirge  colonnaded  drum,  upon 
which  towers  highest  of  ;ill  ;i  tinned  spire,  bearing  a 
winged  angel  to  the  clouds.    The  whole  construction 

1  Street,  Brick  and  Marble  in  the  Middle  Ages,  chap,  vu,  pp.  117-18. 


CG  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

is  most  strange,  in  its  medley  of  the  Romanesque,  the 
Gothic,  and  the  Byzantine. 

Approaching  more  closely  the  main  portal,  we  ob- 
served in  its  lunette  the  famous  fresco  placed  there 
by  Mantegna  at  the  age  of  twenty-one,  —  the  brown- 
frocked  figures  of  Saints  Anthony  and  Bernardino, 
chief  lieutenants  of  the  Franciscan  order,  holding  be- 
tween  them  the  golden  monogram  of  Christ,  glistening 
like  a  sunburst;  a  work  unfortunately  now  retouched 
and  much  ruined,  but  still  exhibiting  what  a  power 
of  modeling  and  disposition  the  master  had  at  that 
age  acquired.  Below  it  are  handsome,  modern  bronze 
doors,  containing  in  high-relief  four  beautiful  Gothic 
niches  with  the  four  leaders  of  the  Franciscan  order, 
—  the  two  already  mentioned  and  Saints  Bonaven- 
tura  and  Louis  of  Toulouse. 

We  entered  the  nave  —  and  stood  overpowered  by 
the  vast  space  of  incense-scented  gloom,  whose  mighty 
stone  pillars  towered  to  dim  domes  far  above;  it  was 
pierced  in  the  distant  choir  by  shafts  of  light  from 
lofty  windows,  that  fell  upon  a  wondrous,  gleaming 
high-altar,  adorned  with  lovely  bronze  figures  which 
stood  upon  its  top  about  a  majestic  crucifix.  It  was 
the  famous  altar  of  Donatello.  The  lofty  roof  is  sub- 
divided into  two  bays  and  two  domes  alternately, 
and  the  piers  to  support  the  latter  are  so  heavy  as 
almost  to  conceal  the  lower  aisles  and  give  the  effect 
of  a  nave  only;  it  is  the  chief  fault  of  the  construction. 
The  upper  wall-spaces  that  once  were  covered  by  fres- 
coes of  the  early  masters,  which  must  have  beauti- 
fully illumined  the  edifice  with  their  flood  of  color  and 
gold-leaf,  now  stand  whitewashed  and  cold,  —  a  result 
of  the  fire  of  1748;  but  waves  of  beauty  still  pour 
from  the  pictures  and  sculptured  monuments  upon 
the   piers,   and   the   massed   treasures  of   the   choir. 


PADUA  AND  S.  ANTONIO  67 

There  is  a  grandeur  about  all  the  rear  part  of  the 
structure :  two  great  domes,  one  over  the  intersection 
of  the  transept,  and  the  other  over  the  high-altar, 
shower  down  their  mystic  light;  tall,  graceful,  pointed 
arches  circle  round  the  apse,  opening  into  the  ambu- 
latory behind;  and  before  the  choir  rises  an  exquisite 
rood-screen,  of  pavonassa  columns  with  sculptured 
bases  and  Corinthian  capitals,  upholding  round  arches 
with  richly  decorated  edges  and  soffits,  upon  whose 
entablature  stand  a  crowd  of  saintly  figures.  Behind 
these  we  saw  still  higher  the  bronze  saints  and  twink- 
ling candles  of  the  high-altar;  and  the  long  marble 
floor  stretching  up  to  them  was  dotted  with  dark 
living  figures,  moving  ceaselessly  to  and  fro  in  the 
religious  silence. 

Concentrating  our  attention  upon  details,  it  was 
first  struck  by  a  most  engaging  painting  upon  the  first 
pier  to  the  right,  facing  the  entrance,  —  a  Virgin  and 
Child,  with  four  Franciscan  saints,  by  the  compara- 
tively unknown  early  cinquecentist,  Antonio  Boselli 
of  Bergamo;  a  work  of  delightful  grace  and  coloring, 
of  that  calm,  sweet,  joyous  expression  that  moves  the 
heart  of  the  observer.  On  the  opposite  first  pillar  we 
saw  another  Madonna,  of  the  fourteenth  century  and 
more  primitive,  —  the  so-called  "Madonna  of  the 
Blind,"  which  is  supposed  by  the  Paduans  to  have 
miraculous  healing  power.  The  second  piers  are  faced 
by  ornate,  sculptured  tombs  of  the  Late  Renaissance, 
—  that  on  the  right  being  of  the  famous  Cardinal 
Bembo,  poet  and  connoisseur,  friend  of  the  great, 
patron  of  artists  and  literati,  whose  "Paduan  retreat 
became  the  rendezvous  of  .ill  die  ablest  men  in  Italy, 

the  centre  of  a  fluctuating  society  of  highest  culture";1 

1  J.  A.  Symonda,  llmaimiancc  iv  Italy.        Cattaneo  modeled  this  bust 
at  Home,  in  1552,  under  the  oversight  of  Satuovino  and  Tiziano. 


68  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

ami  that  on  the  left,  of  Alessandro  Contarini,  by 
Sammicheli,  adorned  with  several  of  those  hideous 
negro  forma  characteristic  of  the  Venetian  baroque. 

But  one  chapel  opens  from  the  aisles,  that  of  the 
Sacrament,  midway  on  the  right,  where  we  noticed 
two  fine  bronze  gates,  and  the  tombs  of  Gattamelata 
and  his  son,  against  the  walls,  in  red,  white  and  black 
marbles.  Then  we  came  to  the  right  transept,  which 
is  occupied  by  the  Chapel  of  S.  Felice,  as  the  left  tran- 
sept is  by  the  "Cappella  del  Santo,"  —  two  of  the 
chief  wonders  of  the  place.  We  stood  in  the  dusky 
nave,  delighted,  turning  our  eyes  from  the  beauties  of 
one  chapel  to  the  other,  —  from  the  exquisite  marble 
screens  which  face  them,  to  the  rich  bronzes,  sculp- 
tures, paintings,  hanging-lamps  and  silver  candelabra 
glittering  within;  while  between  them  towered  the 
precious  rood-screen  with  its  saintly  figures,  backed 
by  the  great  altar  and  bronzes  of  Donatello.  Few 
other  churches  in  Christendom  can  give  just  such  a 
fairy  scene  of  artistic  splendor. 

The  two  chapel-screens  alone  are  magnificent  and 
unique;  that  to  the  right,  of  Gothic  lines  and  highly 
colored  marbles,  built  in  1372-76,  —  that  on  the  left, 
of  the  Renaissance,  glistening  in  white  and  azure 
marbles,  and  harmonious  carvings;  both  are  arcaded 
below,  and  adorned  in  the  upper  divisions  by  statues 
in  regularly  placed  niches,  by  richly  hued  panels  and 
dainty  designs,  by  string-courses  and  pilasters  with 
diversified  reliefs;  dainty  relief- work  also  decorates 
the  quoins  and  soffits  of  the  arches;  while  in  the 
pointed  arches  of  the  one  hang  fine  old  Oriental  brass 
lamps,  dimly  burning,  and  through  the  rounded 
arches  of  the  other  gleam  the  beauties  of  its  sanctuary 
under  the  massed  candle-lights  of  its  altar,  —  splen- 
did silver  candelabra  shaped  into  putti  and  flowers, 


PADUA  AND  S.  ANTONIO  69 

bronze  angel-statuettes,  and,  around  the  walls  in 
recesses,  a  succession  of  large  marble  high-reliefs 
representing  miracles  of  St.  Anthony,  —  life-size 
figures  that  seem  to  move  and  breathe  in  the  golden 
light.1 

This  last  was  the  "holy  of  holies";  for  the  Saint's 
body  lay  under  its  altar-top,  ever  attended  by  burning 
tapers,  ever  prayed  over  by  the  Franciscan  brethren, 
ever  worshiped  by  the  endless  stream  of  the  devout, 
who  knelt  in  rows  of  little  chairs  facing  the  sanctuary, 
and  filed  one  by  one  around  the  altar  to  the  rear  of 
the  sarcophagus,  to  kiss  and  weep  against  its  marble 
block,  and  beg  assistance  in  their  troubles.  'The 
nave  was  filled  with  decrepit  women  and  feeble  child- 
ren, kneeling  by  baskets  of  vegetables  and  other  pro- 
visions, which,  by  good  St.  Anthony's  interposition, 
they  hoped  to  sell  advantageously  in  the  course  of  the 
day.  Bevond  these,  nearer  the  choir,  knelt  a  row  of 
rueful  penitents,  smiting  their  breasts  and  lifting  their 
eyes  to  heaven."2 

In  the  Chapel  of  S.  Felice  we  saw  only  a  high  cin- 
quecenio  altar,  approached  by  steps  with  handsome 
railings,  and  surmounted  by  five  saintly  statuettes;3 
but  round  upon  the  walls  were  those  wonderful  fres- 
coes, which  follow  Giotto's  in  interest  as  well  as  time, 
—  the  celebrated  work  of  Altichieri  and  Jacopo 
d'  Avanzo.   How  many  times  I  have  returned  to  study 

1  Tin'  brilliant  Riccio  was  the  designer  <>f  this  Cappella  <l«'l  Santo,  about 
L500,  and  directed  its  commencement;  the  work  was  continued  l>y  (iio- 
vaimi  Mimllo  and  Sansovino,  until  1531,  and  thereafter  finished  by  Fal- 
conetto. 

:  Beckford,  Italy,  vol.  i. 

1  TliU  chapel  u.^  constructed  for  ili<-  Afarchese  di  Soragna  in  1872  by 
Andriolo,  then  bead  architect  of  the  church;  the  live  statues,  also  by  his 
hand, represent  tin-  Marchese  and  bit  wife, and  Saints  Peter,  Paul,  and 
James.  —  Bartolomea  degli  Scrovegni,  who  is  believed  to  have  been 
poisoned  by  her  husband,  Masilio  dalla  Carrara,  lies  behind  the  altar. 


70  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

those  pictures,  rejoicing  in  their  realism,  power,  and 
individuality.  The  genius,  as  is  recognized  to-day, 
was  that  of  Altichieri,  the  founder  of  the  school  of 
Verona,  who  developed  under  the  study  of  Giotto, 
and  was  the  first  great  painter  of  North  Italy  to  suc- 
ceed the  master.  This  work  was  commenced  by  him, 
with  d' Avanzo's  assistance,  in  1376.  On  the  left  wall, 
the  lunettes  of  the  rear  wall,  the  spaces  of  the  right 
wall  beside  the  window,  and  the  lunettes  of  the  outer 
wall  above  the  arches, is  depicted, in  eleven,  large  and 
small,  graphic  scenes,  the  legendary  life  of  St.  James, 
to  whom  the  chapel  was  originally  dedicated,  —  vivid, 
dramatic  pictures,  filled  with  striking  figures  of  ex- 
traordinary lifelikeness,  in  both  garb  and  action,  and 
of  high  individual  character,  telling  the  story  with 
conciseness  and  power.  But,  chief  of  all,  from  the 
whole  space  of  the  rear  wall  beneath  the  moulding, 
stand  forth  the  hundred  variegated  figures  of  the 
tremendous  Crucifixion.  Sadly  faded  as  they  are  from 
their  pristine  glory  of  brilliant  coloring,  damaged  and 
obscured,  close  inspection  still  reveals  their  strength 
of  composition,  drawing,  and  significance,  combined 
in  a  realism  never  surpassed. 

Giotto's  leadership  and  influence,  of  course,  are 
everywhere  visible :  the  backgrounds,  perspective,  and 
often  the  architecture  show  the  same  limitations;  the 
tactile  values,  action,  and  expression  are  as  fine  as 
anything  of  the  master  himself,  and  the  realism  in 
places  is  beyond  him.  The  scene  will  ever  linger  in  my 
memory  that  shines  from  the  third  lunette:  a  stretch 
of  sandy  seashore  at  dusk,  before  the  castle  of  Queen 
Lupa,  which  rises  in  the  rear,  of  decent  proportions 
and  sombre  picturesqueness,  with  the  Queen  and  her 
sister  looking  down  from  a  balcony;  on  the  beach  the 
forms  of  Hermogenes  and  Philetes,  just  laying  the 


PADUA  AND  S.  ANTONIO  71 

body  of  St.  James  upon  a  long  stone,  which  is  shaping 
itself  at  the  touch  into  a  sarcophagus;  finally,  the 
waiting  boat  with  its  prow  upon  the  strand,  and  a 
mysterious-looking  angel  holding  the  rudder.  So 
mystic  is  the  little  scene,  so  dark  and  heavy  in  atmo- 
sphere and  shadows,  so  weird  in  movement  and  expres- 
sion, so  natural  in  drawing  and  perspective,  that  one 
finds  a  shudder  stealing  down  his  back.  It  is  a  finely 
spaced,  effectively  arranged,  dramatic  composition; 
and  the  others  are  not  far  behind  it. 

But  the  Crucifixion  is  the  chef-d'oeuvre,  —  an  enorm- 
ous work,  thirty  feet  or  more  in  length,  and  perhaps 
fifteen  feet  high.  In  the  already  accepted  fashion, 
the  saints  and  friends  of  Christ  are  massed  upon  one 
side,  the  soldiers  and  enemies  upon  the  other;  the 
former  weep,  the  latter  scoff  and  cast  dice  for  the  gar- 
ments; and  on  the  outskirts  are  many  people  engaged 
indifferently  in  their  everyday  occupations,  with 
streets,  buildings,  gossip,  barter,  and  the  various 
domestic  animals.  These,  however,  are  but  the  back- 
ground for  the  supreme  tragedy,  whose  brutality  is 
as  well  conveyed  by  the  soldiers'  callousness  as  is  its 
poignant  grief  by  the  emotions  of  the  saints.  Remark- 
able figures  are  they,  every  one  of  that  throng,  — 
natural,  yet  highly  individualized,  garbed  appropri- 
ately for  the  epoch,  intensely  alive,  and  marked  with 
keen  expressions.  It  is  a  work  that  would  rank  among 
the  highest  in  any  age  of  development,  —  yet  how 
marvelous  when  we  realize  that  it  was  done  in  that 
far-away,  primitive  trecento,  by  its  crude  methods, 
one  of  the  first  truly  realistic  crucifixions,  if  not  the 
very  first. 

"Altiehieri  combines  many  faults  of  those  later 
Tuscan  painters:  exaggerated  love  of  costume  and 
finery,   delighl    in   detail,   preoccupation    with    local 


n  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

color.  .  .  .  The  accessories  absorb  him.  .  .  .  The  spec- 
tator is  in  danger  of  forgetting  the  Figure  upon  the 
Cross.  .  .  .  Good  qualities  consist  in  clearness  of 
narration,  effective  massing,  and  fine  distances.  The 
composition  and  facial  types,  fresh  and  memorable; 
the  architecture  handled  with  loving  precision  and 
perspective,  though  the  naive  and  unmathematical  is 
seldom  wanting.  The  portrait-heads  are  individual- 
ized to  the  utmost  limits  permitted  by  form  in  that 
day,  while  to  this  gift  of  direct  observation  is  added 
a  power  of  rendering  the  thing  seen,  surpassed  by 
Giotto  alone."1 

We  crossed  the  nave  to  the  Cappella  del  Santo,  and 
examined  next  its  exquisitely  carved  pilasters,2  and 
the  series  of  high-reliefs  around  its  walls.  There  are 
nine  scenes,  commencing  with  the  Ordination  of  St. 
Anthony  on  the  left  wall;  the  others  represent  certain 
of  the  miracles,  four  of  them  being  resuscitations  of 
dead  persons.  They  were  executed  between  1500  and 
1530,  by  Sansovino,  Tullio  Lombardo,  and  several 
other  artists  of  the  Venetian  school.  Especially  inter- 
esting we  found  the  last  scene,  by  Antonio  Lombardo, 
in  which  the  Saint  is  causing  a  little  child  to  bear  wit- 
ness in  favor  of  its  mother,  and  all  the  forms  are  very 
Greek  in  treatment,  from  that  artist's  study  of  the 
antique;  while  most  beautiful  of  all  to  us  was  Giro- 
lamo  Campagna's  Resuscitation  of  a  Youth,  in  which 
the  figures  are  of  an  ideal  beauty,  grace,  and  tense 
significance.  As  we  examined  those  on  the  back  wall 
the  steady  stream  of  devotees  kept  passing  by  the 
holy  tomb,  mostly  women  of  the  lower  class,  who  laid 

1  Berenson,  North  Italian  Painters. 

1  One  of  these  beautiful  pilasters,  by  Girolamo  Pironi  of  Vkenza,  is 
especially  remarkable  for  the  delicate  grace  of  its  grapevines,  with  birds, 
snakes,  etc.,  among  the  leaves,  wrought  with  elaborate  accuracy. 


PADUA.  ALTAR  with  BRONZES  (DONATELLO.) 


PADUA  AND  S.  AXTOXIO  73 

their  heads  and  lips  against  the  marble  altar-back, 
pressed  to  it  rosaries  and  other  objects  for  a  blessing, 
and  repeated  their  prayers  aloud  ecstatically;  some- 
times they  wept  and  moaned,  in  an  emotion  that 
regarded  none  surrounding.  I  wished  that  I  might 
have  such  comforting  faith  in  the  powers  of  the  in- 
animate. 

After  looking  also  at  the  richly  sculptured  silver 
candelabra,  and  the  white  and  gold  decoration  of  the 
ceiling  that  completed  the  effect,  we  entered  by  a 
small  doorway  an  adjacent  chapel  on  the  east,  filled 
with  contrasting  gloom,  in  which  still  forms  knelt 
murmuring  before  an  altar,  and  through  which  softly 
percolated  the  picturesque  hues  of  old  frescoes  and 
the  colored  marbles  of  medieval  tombs.  This  was  the 
Cappella  della  Madonna  Mora,  the  only  remaining 
portion  of  the  earlier  Church  of  S.  Maria  Mater 
Domini,  which  stood  upon  this  ground  in  St.  An- 
thony's day.  In  1852  the  chapel  was  carefully  re- 
stored: but  there  still  stands  upon  its  altar  the  statue 
of  the  "  Madonna  Mora"  (a  black-faced  image)  which 
the  Saint  was  wont  to  adore.  Off  from  it  on  the  north 
opens  a  smaller  chapel,  a  recess  whose  walls  are  cov- 
ered with  ruined,  retouched  frescoes  of  Giusto  Pada- 
vano,  now  of  little  worth.  In  the  adjacent  left  aisle  of 
the  church,  which  here  is  prolonged  as  an  ambulatory 
around  the  choir,  we  noticed  the  peculiar  baroque 
monument  of  Caterino  Cornaro,  father  of  the  Caterina 
whom  Venice  adopted  as  the  Republic's  daughter, 
and  gave  as  a  bride  to  the  King  of  Cyprus;  I  lien  we 
made  the  circuit  of  the  ambulatory,  peering  through 
the  locked  wickets  of  its  seven  successive  chapels,  at 
the  modern  frescoes  and  sculptures  adorning  them. 

The  central  one  of  these,  the  Cappella  del  Te- 
soro,  or  Sand  miry,  constructed  by  Pcrodi  about  1GJ)0, 


74  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

—  lying  directly  behind  the  high-altar,  is  lavishly 
decorated  with  marbles  and  gold-leaf,  and  contains 
some  remarkable  relies  (shown  by  the  monks  for 
three  and  one  half  lire)  — such  as  fine  gold-work  of 
the  cinquecento,  and  the  chin,  tongue,  hair,  and  other 
pleasant  fragments  of  St.  Anthony.  The  other  six 
chapels  have  been  allotted  to  and  decorated  by  the 
different  chief  nationalities;  that  at  the  north  end 
best  pleased  us  by  some  really  fine  modern  paintings 
of  New  Testament  scenes,  extraordinary  in  that  the 
artist  had  achieved,  for  once,  the  Early  Renaissance 
simplicity  and  strength  of  composition  and  color. 
After  all,  I  thought,  we  could  paint  to-day  as  well  as 
four  centuries  ago,  if  our  artists  would  thus  return 
to  the  great  precepts  and  the  uplifting  themes;  but 
my  mind  wandered  sadly  to  the  recent  Venetian  art 
exhibition  of  late  canvases  from  all  over  Europe,  in 
whose  thousands  there  were  few  indeed  that  were 
not  petty,  in  subject,  in  composition,  in  dignity,  and 
heart-appeal.  We  puny  moderns  paint  things  without 
true  feeling,  or  elevation,  and  try  to  make  up  for  the 
lack  of  heart-interest  by  tricks  of  atmosphere  and 
manner.  I  fear  that  our  art  will  never  be  great  again, 
until  we  return  to  the  methods  that  glorified  it  in  the 
past,  with  minds  reattuned  to  simplicity  and  truth. 

From  the  southern  end  of  the  ambulatory  we 
mounted  at  last,  by  a  few  steps  through  a  side  door, 
into  the  elevated  choir.  Several  assistant  sacristans 
were  constantly  engaged  in  exhibiting  its  beauties  to 
the  unceasing  throng  of  visitors,  —  chiefly  pilgrims 
to  the  shrine.  Our  attention  was  first  drawn  to  the 
two  sides  of  the  marble  screen,  separating  the  choir 
from  the  aisles,  which  were  designed  by  Donatello; 
they  were  of  solid  construction,  some  ten  feet  or  more 
in  height,  adorned  with  pilasters,  panels,  and  patterns 


PADUA  AND  S.  ANTONIO  75 

of  white  and  colored  marbles;  and  each  carried  six 
bronze  plates  of  reliefs,  from  the  Old  Testament, 
about  two  feet  square  —  ten  of  them  by  Bellano 
(1488),  the  Paduan  sculptor  who  learned  from  Dona- 
tello,  and  two  by  his  pupil  Andrea  Riccio  (1507)  — 
like  paintings  in  their  wealth  of  background,  detail, 
and  crowds  of  small  figures  in  dramatic  action. 
Riccio's,  as  Mr.  Perkins  said,  "at  once  place  him  on 
a  higher  level  than  his  master."  The  whole  constitute 
an  effect  of  remarkable  splendor  and  beauty;  while 
each  plate  is  a  study,  in  itself,  of  the  possibilities  of 
bronze  in  vivid  portrayal. 

Fascinating  as  were  these  to  us,  they  were  forgotten 
when  we  turned  to  the  altar.  This  was  reconstructed 
in  1895  after  Donatello's  original  design,  and  adorned 
upon  both  sides  with  his  exquisite  bronze  reliefs.  The 
main  body  is  raised  upon  five  steps  of  precious  mar- 
bles, and  faced  completely  with  bronze  placques,  —  a 
central  square,  representing  the  half-figure  of  Christ 
with  two  little  angels  lowering  it  to  the  tomb,  and  ten 
oblong  panels,  containing  the  master's  celebrated 
little  angel-musicians,  with  two  more  of  them  on  the 
ends.  They  are  utterly  charming,  these  rounded  baby- 
figures,  blowing  with  puffed  cheeks  upon  their  various 
instruments.  At  the  rear  of  this  base  rises  the  ante- 
pendiiun,  of  glistening  Carrara  cut  into  lovely  pilas- 
ters, panels,  and  a  wreathed  cornice,  and  faced  with 
three  larger  bronzes:  a  square  Pieta  in  the  centre,  and 
two  wide  [dates,  representing  miracles  of  St.  Anthony, 
;it  the  sides.  The  two  last,  with  their  two  companion 
pieces  on  the  altar's  back,  are  the  finest  work  of  all, 
truly  wonderful  in  their  perspective,  handling  of 
masses,  and  expressiveness.  Fitly  topping  all  this  are 
the  seven  life-size  bronze  statues  rising  above,  and  the 
Crucifix   rising  again  above  them,  bearing  a  form  of 


7C  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Chrisl  thai  seems  unsurpassed,  for  its  union  of  realism 
with  grace.  A  quaint  Madonna  stands  just  below  His 
feet,  holding  her  Babe,  with  Saints  Francis  and  An- 
thony at  her  sides.  All  but  the  two 'sainted  bishops 
on  I  lie  ends  are  from  the  master's  own  hands. 

Here,  then,  are  gathered  upon  one  altar  a  score  and 
a  half  of  the  world's  greatest  masterpieces  of  sculp- 
ture. We  understood  their  perfection  when  we  stopped 
to  remember  that  Donatello  came  to  Padua  at  the 
very  height  of  his  powers.  "The  third  period  of 
Donatello's  artistic  development,  comprising  the 
years  (1444-54)  spent  at  Padua,  is  the  time  of  matur- 
ity in  technical  skill  and  in  range  of  thought.  Dona- 
tello is  now  fifty-eight  years  old;  for  about  forty  years 
he  has  been- constantly  studying  nature,  the  antique, 
and  his  trade.  One  might  reasonably  expect,  then,  to 
find  in  this,  the  only  important  commission  outside  of 
his  own  city,  a  tour  deforce.  And  such  it  is :  for  it  com- 
prises reliefs  which  are  his  masterpieces  in  relief,  sep- 
arate statues  of  great  character  and  beauty,  and  much 
ornamental  detail  exquisitely  designed  and  wrought. 
...  In  artists  like  Donatello,  however,  the  energy  of 
imagination  is  so  great  that  it  extends  itself  over  a 
broader  field,  and  the  intelligence  is  so  penetrating 
that  it  sees  in  each  object  its  own  significant  features. 
Therefore  we  have  sculpture  ranging  in  technique 
from  the  equestrian  statue  of  Gattamelata  to  the 
delicate  bas-relief  of  the  young  St.  John,  and  in  sub- 
ject,  from  the  joy  of  singing  children  to  the  agonized 
repentance  of  a  Magdalen."  l 

There  is  one  more  masterpiece  in  this  choir,  that  of 
Riccio,  —  a  magnificent  bronze  candelabrum  nearly 
twelve  feet  high,  formed  into  a  great  variety  of  lovely 
designs  and  figures  from  Christian  and  heathen  lore, 

1  Freeman,  Italian  Sculptors,  chap.  v. 


PADUA  AND  S.  ANTONIO  77 

upon  a  half-dozen  graduated  divisions.1    Also  inter- 
esting is  the  full-length,  contemporary  portrait  of  St. 
Anthony,  which  is  said  to  be  his  most  accurate  like- 
ness, —  placed   near   the   left-hand  entrance.    After 
examining  this,  we  had  just  enough  of  the  day  left  to 
pay  a  visit  to  the  buildings  adjoining  the  church  on 
the  south,  which  are  entered  by  doors  in  the  right 
aisle.   We  saw  the  large  Chiostro  del  Capitolo,  with 
its  handsome  Gothic  arcades  and  medieval  tombs;  the 
small  Chiostro  del  Noviziato,  the  rooms  above  which 
are  still  occupied  by  the  friars;  the  sacristy,  with  its 
tarsia-work  from  Squarcione's  designs  and  its  marble 
ornamentation  by  Bellano;  and  other  rooms  and  pass- 
ages occupied  by  Gothic  tombs.    Here  was  formerly 
the  "beUissima  cappella"  of  S.  Jacopo,  —  spoken  of  by 
Vasari  as  having  been  so  splendidly  frescoed  by  Giotto, 
—  which  is  probably  identical  with  the  later  chapter- 
house;   the    frescoes,    alas,    have    long    disappeared, 
although  the  brethren  exhibit  some  alleged  fragments 
of  them  in  a  row  of  ruined  saints  in  the  "Cappella  del 
Capitolo."    Still  more  fragmentary  we  found  the  re- 
mains of  the  cloister  in  which  St.  Anthony  used  to 
walk,  belonging  to  the  former  Church  of  S.  Maria, — 
a  small,  broken  colonnade  behind  the  apse,  adorned 
with  Gothic  bits  of  terra-cotta. 

On  the  next  day  we  visited  the  buildings  which 
extend  from  the  southwest  angle  of  the  church  along 
the  south  side  of  its  piazza,  —  little  brick  structures 
of  Gothic  lines  and  Romanesque  cornices,  with  long 
homely  brick  pilasters  dividing  tlicir  facades,  in  Lom- 

1  It  was  "by  this  magnificent  Paschal  candlestick,"  said  Perkins,  in  his 
Italian  Sculptors,  tliat  Andrea  Briosco,  called  Riccio  from  liis  curling  liair. 

obtained  Ins  great  reputation.  "Tins  noble  work  <>f  art  is  divided  by  rich 

e.irniee-,  -  and  i|  Clowned  1>\  a  rieli  vase.  .  .  .  Kvery  portion  IS  OTOUght  out 
with  the  Utmost  care,  not  a  detail  neglected,  nor  is  any  part  of  its  surface 
unadorned." 


78  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

bard  fashion.  The  first  is  but  the  screen  of  an  ancient 
graveyard,  whose  monuments  are  visible  through  its 
pointed  gateway;  the  second  is  the  flat-gabled  "Cap- 
pella  S.  Giorgio,"  which  Altichieri  and  d' Avanzo  have 
made  immortal.  One  of  the  church's  sacristans 
brought  a  huge  key  that  opened  the  door  of  the 
simple,  round-arched  entrance,  locked  us  within,  and 
went  away  again,  saying  that  he  would  return  in  a 
half-hour.  We  hardly  noticed  it,  so  affected  were  we 
by  the  sight  of  that  extraordinary  nave:  the  whole  four 
walls  are  frescoed  from  top  to  bottom  in  one  vast  mass 
of  brightly  colored  dramatic  scenes,  whose  hundreds  of 
life-size  figures,  clad  in  costumes  and  armor  of  old,  stand 
forth  with  vivid  power, —  moving,  struggling,  tortur- 
ing, pressing  in  brilliant  throngs,  before  backgrounds 
of  fanciful  architecture.  There  are  twenty-two  large 
tableaux,  some  much  injured,  some  almost  entirely  de- 
faced; but  the  majority  have  a  remarkable  brightness, 
with  joyous  colorings  that  brought  to  our  realization 
the  pristine  brilliancy  of  such  pictures  of  the  trecento. 
The  stories  that  they  portray  are  of  strong  and 
tragic  interest:  the  legends  of  St.  Lucia  and  St.  Cate- 
rina  on  the  right  wall,  that  of  St.  George  on  the  left; 
the  Crucifixion  and  Coronation  of  the  Virgin  are 
on  the  altar-wall,  and  by  the  entrance,  the  Annuncia- 
tion, Adorations  of  the  Shepherds  and  the  Magi,  the 
Circumcision,  and  the  Flight  into  Egypt.  Especially 
stamped  upon  my  mind  is  the  scene  of  St.  Lucia  being 
taken  to  execution,  where  she  has  refused  to  move,  and 
the  oxen  harnessed  to  drag  her  have  fallen  to  their 
knees;  upon  her  pure  uplifted  face  is  an  expression  of 
sublime  confidence  in  the  divine  goodness  that  one 
cannot  easily  forget.1  The  execution  of  St.  Catherine 

1  "She  stands  as  unmoved  and  still  as  if  communing  with  God  in  the 
midst  of  a  desert,  —  her  whole   figure  and  attitude,  her  utter,  effortless, 


PADUA  AND  S.  ANTONIO  79 

also  is  of  unusual  expressiveness  and  power,  —  the 
same  profound  feelings  being  manifest  in  her  sweet 
countenance,  while  the  wheel  that  was  to  rack  her 
flies  asunder.  The  scenes  as  to  St.  George  are  filled 
with  very  forceful  knightly  figures,  clad  in  glistening 
chain-armor.  Through  all  the  pictures  the  realism  is 
unbroken,  of  wonderfully  accurate  drawing  and  solid- 
ity for  the  period,  with  dignified  movement,  and  ex- 
ceeding power  of  disposition  and  expression.  Every 
time  that  I  have  seen  these  frescoes  I  have  been  more 
impressed  by  their  superiority  in  such  respects  to  any 
that  followed  them  for  a  hundred  years;  while  for 
pure,  deep  feeling  they  have  seldom  been  surpassed 
in  any  epoch.  In  them,  said  Layard,  "the  spirit  of 
Christian  chivalry  finds,  for  the  first  and  almost  for 
the  last  time,  its  voice  in  the  painting  of  Italy."  In 
the  power,  too,  that  is  here  displayed,  of  handling 
crowds,  of  balancing  masses,  and  managing  so  as  to 
bring  out  strongly  and  pointedly  the  chief  idea  of 
every  tableau,  Altichieri  stands  preeminent.  These 
works  of  his  should  certainly  be  more  appreciated  and 
studied  by  the  world  at  large  than  they  have  been 
hitherto.1 

From  the  chapel  we  finally  stepped  next  door,  to 
the  so-called  "Scuola  del  Santo,"  a  building  erected 
by  the  Brotherhood  of  St.  Anthony  in  1499-1505, 
according  to  the  customary  model  of  those  fraternity- 

unrcsistant  immobility,  forming  the  most  marked  contrast  with  the 
frenzied  efforts  of  the  oxen,  and  the  rabid  rage  of  her  persecutors."  —  Lord 
Lindsay. 

1  "Every  variety  of  character"  —  wrote  Lord  Lindsay  in  his  Christian 
Art  —  "is  discriminated  with  a  degree  of  truth  thai  startles  one;  —  feeling, 
simplicity,  and  good   taste,   prevail   throughout;  —  there  arc  crowds  of 

figures,  but  no  confusion;  the  coloring  is  soft  and  pleasing,  the  backgrounds 

ar<-  mOR  usually  of  the  most  gorgeous  and  exquisite  architecture.  The 
author  comes  very  rie.ir  Masaccio  in  his  peculiar  merits,  while  in  Christian 
feeling,  invention,  and  even  in  composition,  he  surpasses  him." 


80  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

schools,  with  a  Large  meeting-hall  upon  the  upper 
floor.  Around  the  four  walls  of  this  hall,  above  the 
wainscoting,  extend  seventeen  large  frescoes,  painted 
in  different  centuries,  from  the  fifteenth  to  the  eight- 
eenth, representing  —  of  course  —  events  of  the  Saint's 
life.  They  were  not  clearly  discernible  to  us  by  the 
dim  light  from  the  grimy  windows,  nor  was  the  parrot- 
like chatter  more  enlightening,  of  the  crone  who  fol- 
lowed us  about,  and  responded  to  questions  simply 
by  repeating  her  monologue.  The  best  of  the  pictures 
are  the  three  done  by  Dom.  Campagnola,  and  the 
three  by  Titian;1  though  all  are  badly  injured  and 
some  ruined  completely.  Titian's  have  also  been  so 
spoiled  by  restorations  as  to  be  no  representations 
of  his  power;  they  portray  certain  of  the  Saint's 
miracles,  —  the  causing  of  the  infant  to  give  evidence 
for  its  accused  mother  (number  1),  the  resuscitation 
of  the  wife  slain  by  her  husband  (number  11),  and 
the  healing  of  the  boy  who  cut  off  his  foot  in  remorse 
for  having  struck  his  mother  (number  12). 

On  leaving  the  hall,  as  our  eyes  were  somewhat 
tired  of  painting,  we  walked  around  to  the  famous  old 
botanical  garden  of  Padua,  founded  in  1545,  which 
lies  close  by  on  the  south.  The  narrow  street  leading 
from  the  piazza  in  that  direction  took  us  across  two 
small  arms  of  the  Bacchiglione,  the  second  of  which 
runs  just  before  the  garden  and  is  prettily  shadowed 
by  its  leaning  trees  and  bushes.  Through  a  locked 
iron  gate  we  could  see  graveled  paths  winding  off 
through  the  cool  shade  of  the  wood,  lined  by  many 
varieties   of   shrubs,  —  an   inviting  contrast    to  the 

1  These,  and  the  rest  of  Titian's  frescoes  executed  in  Padua,  were 
painted  by  him  at  an  early  age,  about  1511,  when  he  resided  here  for  a 
while  on  account  of  the  financial  depression  and  other  troubles  in  Venice, 
caused  by  the  war  of  the  League  of  Cambrai. 


PADUA  AND  S.  ANTONIO  81 

heat  and  glare  of  the  sun.  We  pulled  a  wire  that 
rang  a  bell,  and  were  shortly  admitted  by  an  intel- 
ligent caretaker,  who  conducted  us  over  the  grounds. 
Surprise  and  pleasure  filled  us  at  the  size  and  beauty 
of  the  giant  trees  that  surrounded  us  on  all  sides, 
shutting  off  in  a  moment  that  medieval  Italy  in  which 
we  had  been  living,  with  its  shadeless  plain,  and  bare 
streets  and  piazzas,  transporting  us  apparently  to 
some  quiet  English  dell;  a  charming  transition, 
which  made  me  suddenly  realize  that  all  Lombardy 
could  be  like  this,  covered  with  great  trees  and  lawns 
and  copses,  would  men  permit  it.  It  has  the  neces- 
sary deep  soil,  the  temperate  climate,  the  rainfall; 
and  must  have  been  so  covered  in  bygone  ages.  All 
the  monarchs  of  the  North  were  here,  — elms,  oaks, 
and  beeches,  as  grand  as  any  of  English  pride.  We 
saw  the  hickory  that  is  one  hundred  and  fifty  years 
old  and  one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  tall,  the  aged, 
hollow  plane  tree  (dating  from  1680)  that  is  the  an- 
cestor of  all  the  planes  in  western  Europe,  and,  finally, 
inclosed  in  a  many-sided  house  of  its  own,  the  cele- 
brated palm  (Chamoorops  humilis)  planted  about 
1580,  that  was  so  admired  by  Goethe  on  his  visit  of 
1786.  The  front  side  of  its  dwelling  was  now  open  (it 
is  closed  only  in  winter-time)  and  we  could  clearly 
see  the  dozen  different  trunks,  within  the  close  foliage, 
that  raise  it  sixty  feet  or  so  from  the  ground,  into  an 
imposing  yet  graceful  mass. 

This  stands  in  the  eastern  portion  of  the  grounds, 
which  is  laid  out  as  a  wide  extent  of  flower-beds  and 
squares  of  .shrubs,  with  a  long  greenhouse  running 
along  the  outer  side,  and  other  palms  and  exotic 
plants  scattered  about.  Here  are  countless  varieties 
of  growth  usually  unknown  to  the  Temperate  /one, 
and    many   Others    brought    from    the   Orient.    "It    is 


82  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

pleasant  and  instructive,"  said  Goethe,  "to  walk 
through  a  vegetation  that  is  new  to  us.  With  ordin- 
ary plants,  as  well  as  with  other  objects  that  have 
been  long  familiar  to  us,  we  at  last  do  not  think  at 
all;  and  what  is  looking  without  thinking?"1 

That  afternoon  we  completed  the  sights  of  the  Pi- 
azza of  S.  Antonio  by  paying  our  visit  to  the  Museo 
Civico,  which  is  next  to  the  Scuola  del  Santo,  and  like 
it  occupies  a  portion  of  the  old  monastery  buildings. 
A  handsome  aspect  has,  however,  been  given  it  by 
a  modern  marble  facade  of  Renaissance  lines,  and  a 
truly  beautiful  modern  staircase,  all  of  white  stone, 
on  the  left  of  the  entrance  hall.  The  end  of  this  hall 
opens  into  an  old  arcaded  cortile  of  the  friars,  pictur- 
esquely occupied  now,  in  corridors  and  centre,  by 
an  assemblage  of  ancient  sarcophagi,  monuments, 
and  bits  of  sculpture,  including  the  fragments  of  a 
Roman  temple  excavated  from  the  ancient  forum,  on 
the  site  of  the  Caffe  Pedrocchi.  The  upper  front  hall, 
into  which  the  stairway  debouches,  has  been  richly 
built  over,  and  filled  with  many  casts  of  the  most 
renowned  antique  sculptures;  through  a  glass  door  it 
is  continued  as  a  book-lined  gallery  of  the  library, 
but  before  this  door  another  one  to  the  left  opens  into 
the  first  hall  of  the  paintings. 

All  of  Padua's  great  pictures,  as  has  been  seen,  lie 
without  this  collection,  which  is  neither  extensive  nor 
distinguished;  yet  it  contains  a  number  of  works  that 
always  afford  one  pleasure.  In  the  first  salon,  which 
consists  of  three  rooms  thrown  into  one  and  still 
partially  divided,  there  hang  a  good  Palma  Vecchio, 
a  Madonna  with  two  saints,  of  his  usual  warm  rich 
coloring  and  tone,  with  a  beautifully  graduated  land- 
scape; a  landscape  by  Giorgione,  that  well  exhibits 

1  Goethe,  Autobiography:  Letters  from  Switzerland  and  Travel*  in  Italy. 


PADUA  AND  S.   ANTONIO  83 

his  powers  of  perspective  and  atmosphere;  an  unfin- 
ished Titian,  with  half-figures  of  Christ,  three  apostles 
and  three  other  persons,  of  strong  realism  and  individ- 
uality; and  a  delightful  example  of  that  fine  cinque- 
centist,  Boccaccio  Boccaccino,  of  Cremona,  who  has 
not  yet  come  fully  into  his  own,  —  a  Madonna  with 
two  female  saints,  much  faded  in  its  delicate  tints, 
but  still  showing  his  characteristic  tone  of  golden 
shades,  his  soft  flesh-work,  and  peculiar  grace.  All 
three  figures  are  painted  from  the  same  model,  which 
he  used  so  constantly.  In  the  centre  of  the  room  is  a 
superb,  unusual,  Japanese  vase  of  large  size,  brilliantly 
decorated  with  warriors  in  full  suits  of  their  curious 
ancient  armor,  on  wide  fields  of  snow,  —  of  a  com- 
position and  perspective  almost  Occidental. 

The  second  room,  running  to  the  right  from  near 
the  end,  showed  us  greater  treasures:  foremost  among 
them,  three  Giovanni  Bellini  Madonnas,  one  of  which 
(415)  is  especially  well  preserved,  with  rich  broad 
hues  of  green  and  orange  and  crimson,  and  the  far 
blue  peaks  of  the  Alps  in  the  rear,  as  seen  across  the 
Lagoon;  one  of  his  brother's  characteristic  processions 
of  people  in  sixteenth-century  garb,  and  animals, 
before  a  town  of  that  epoch,  with  many  churches  and 
towers  looking  over  its  heavy  walls,  —  labeled  the 
'Visit  of  the  Magi";  one  of  Francia's  calm,  sweet- 
faced  Madonnas,  surrounded  with  angels,  exquisitely 
moulded  and  finished;  one  of  Antonello  da  Messina's 
realistic  portraits,  of  a  man  of  forty  much  in  need  of 
;i  shave;  another  Madonna  by  Boeeaeeino,  with  that 
lovely  limpid  eye  which  lie  developed;  a  splendid 
Holy  Family  by  Garofalo,  in  an  extraordinary  back- 
ground of  land  and  sea  and  dislanl  blue  mountains, 
of  very  fine  modeling,  subdued  coloring,  and  skillful 
use  of  light,        I  hough  his  lack  of  genius  emerges  in 


84  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

the  want  of  expression;  lastly,  an  important  example 
of  Pordenone,  —  a  Madonna  with  two  saints,  wanting 
in  emotion,  but  of  that  soft,  rich  tone  and  coloring, 
which  mark  him  so  distinctively.  Later  in  the  year, 
when  I  was  searching  over  various  Friulan  towns  for 
works  of  Pordenone,  I  wished  that  I  could  find  others 
of  this  excellence. 

The  third  hall  opened  at  the  extreme  end  of  the 
first,  extending  far  to  the  right,  lighted  only  from  its 
lofty  ceiling,  and  glowing  with  the  countless  hues  of  a 
hundred  large  canvases,  that  led  up  to  one  great  mas- 
terpiece on  the  end  wTall :  it  was  in  a  massive  gold  frame 
of  exceptional  richness,  —  the  chef-d'amvre  of  the  gal- 
lery, the  Madonna  and  Saints  of  Romanino.  We 
approached  at  once  to  examine  it.  It  is  rare  to  find 
Romanino's  work  far  from  Brescia,  and  this  is  an 
excellent  specimen.  The  Madonna  sits  enthroned,  of 
life-size,  holding  her  Child,  with  four  saints  standing 
at  the  sides,  a  girlish  child-angel  seated  on  the  step 
of  the  throne,  playing  a  tambourine,  and  two  others 
holding  a  crown  over  the  Madonna's  head.  It  is  a 
splendid  display  of  deep,  harmonious  coloring,  based 
upon  the  lovely  rose-shade  of  the  Virgin's  gown,  and 
glittering  with  much  gold.  Very  graceful,  too,  are  the 
figures  and  composition,  in  that  master's  usual  full 
curves;  but,  like  so  many  of  his  works,  it  lacks  feeling 
and  expression.  It  is  pietistic  on  the  surface  only, — 
repose  without  joy  of  soul.  In  the  same  room  are  two 
more  of  his  paintings,  smaller,  —  another  Madonna 
and  Saints,  of  similar  qualities,  and  a  Last  Supper 
poorly  composed.  We  noticed  two  Tintorettos  —  one 
a  portrait,  the  other  a  realistic  scene  of  the  Magdalen 
washing  Jesus'  feet,  very  fine  in  atmosphere,  natural 
disposition,  and  expression.  There  were  also  two  ex- 
pressive portraits  of  Venetian  patricians  by  Titian; 


PADUA  AND  S.   ANTONIO  85 

an  overcrowded,  undignified  Paolo  Veronese;  an  ex- 
cellent Tiepolo,  at  that  master's  best,  representing 
S.  Patrizio  preaching  to  the  people  in  his  bishop's 
robes;  and,  best  of  all,  a  very  beautiful  Previtali,  a 
signed  panel  of  Madonna,  Child,  and  a  donor,  radiat- 
ing indescribable  charm  from  its  golden  light-effect, 
luminous  atmosphere,  and  softness  of  countenance. 

Also  belonging  to  the  Museo  Civico,  and  well  worth 
examination  by  any  one  who  has  the  time,  are  various 
lesser  collections:  majolica- ware,  porcelain,  cameos, 
bronzes,  ivory-carvings,  wood-carvings,  laces,  coins 
and  medals,  tapestries,  miniatures,  autographs,  text- 
iles, old  costumes  and  furniture,  etc.;  besides  the 
prehistoric  and  Roman  antiquities,  the  geological  col- 
lection, the  modern  paintings  and  sculptures,  and 
the  precious  documents  amongst  the  archives.  The 
library,  too,  contains  many  valuable  works. 

In  the  eastern  part  of  the  huge  southern  section  of 
the  city,  there  are,  besides  the  Orto  Botanico  already 
described,  two  prominent  objects  of  unusual  interest; 
and  one  of  them  is  very  unusual.  This  is  the  vast 
piazza  known  for  recent  ages  by  the  name  of  "Prato 
della  Valle,"  now  misnamed  Piazza  Vittorio  Emanuele 
II,  distant  a  couple  of  blocks  to  the  west  of  the  Botani- 
cal Garden.  Its  popular  name  during  the  Middle  Ages 
and  the  Renaissance,  and  still  occasionally  heard,  was 
the  Zairo,  —  a  corruption  of  the  Latin  theatro;  for  here 
the  Romans  had  an  immense  theatre,  in  which,  ac- 
cording to  Strabo  and  Tacitus,  they  celebrated  once 
every  thirty  years  the  games  commemorating  Ante- 
rior'.s  founding  of  the  city.  The  medieval  bishops  and 
nobles  used  the  building  as  a  quarry,  so  that  its  stones 
and  marbles  are  scattered  through  the  walls  of  Padua. 
The  later  name,  Prato  della  Valle,  records  the  marshy 
nature  of  the  ground. 


86  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

We  first  went  down  there  on  a  lovely  summer 
morning,  when  there  was  not  a  cloud  in  the  sky,  and 
the  sun  was  already  beginning  to  render  the  baked 
streets  uncomfortable.  It  was  consequently  a  marked 
relief  to  emerge  upon  that  great  open  space  of  mov- 
ing airs,  and  feast  our  eyes  upon  the  luxuriant  foliage 
of  its  wooded  central  oval,  which  preserves  the  out- 
line of  the  ancient  theatre.  Hundreds  of  huge  plane 
trees  were  there,  solidly  massed,  with  graveled  walks 
percolating  their  shade,  surrounded  by  a  stone-banked 
canal  of  flowing  water  that  coolly  reflected  the  leafy 
boughs  bending  far  overhead.  Across  the  water  led 
four  ornamental  bridges  from  the  four  sides  of  the 
oval,  —  to  one  of  which  we  hurried,  through  the  in- 
tense glare  and  heat  of  the  down-beating  sun. 

This  much  was  ordinary;  but  on  the  balustrades  of 
the  bridges,  and  the  parapets  of  the  canal  all  around 
the  extended  circle,  rises  a  procession  of  heroic  statues 
of  every  age,  so  numerous  and  so  varied  that  at  the 
first  sight  one  can  only  stare  in  bewilderment.   Surely 
so  many  statues  were  never  elsewhere  gathered  in  one 
place.   It  is  like  a  city  of  people  of  stone.   They  stand 
in  every  sort  of  costume  of  the  bygone  centuries,  in 
every  kind  of  posture,  from  every  rank  of  human 
greatness,  —  poets,     generals,     philosophers,     kings, 
statesmen,  princes,  professors,  literati,  —  all  the  men 
of  note  who  have  at  any  time  attended  Padua's  Uni- 
versity, to  teach  or  to  learn.    Not  Padua  alone  has 
erected  them,  but  cities  and  courts  all  over  Europe, 
to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  their  illustrious  sons. 
The  four  bridges  are  distinguished  by  the  company 
of  popes  and  doges,  in  all  the  grandeur  of  their  crowns 
and  ceremonial  robes;  but  the  dignity  of  these,  and 
too  many  others,  unfortunately,  is  marred  by  their 
baroque  style  of  sculpture,  —  the  wind-tossed,  cum- 


PADUA  AND  S.   ANTONIO  87 

brous,  convoluted  garments,  convulsive  attitudes, 
and  wild  gestures  that  make  us  shrink  away.1  It  is 
only,  however,  when  one  stands  here,  looking  at  the 
far-extended  throng  of  immortals,  that  he  fully  real- 
izes what  a  part  in  history  has  been  played  by  the 
University  of  Padua. 

Walking  in  the  refreshing  shade  of  the  mighty  plane 
trees,  our  eyes  turned  from  the  statuary  to  the  far 
lines  of  buildings  fronting  the  piazza.  Nearly  all  were 
simple  three-storied  dwellings,  some  on  the  north  and 
east  being  ensconced  in  the  green  of  little  gardens;  but 
in  the  centre  of  the  west  side  our  gaze  was  caught  by 
a  larger,  ornamental  structure  of  red  brick,  faced 
by  two  imposing  Gothic  arcades,  the  upper  twice  the 
height  of  the  lower.  It  was  the  so-called  Loggia  Muni- 
cipale,  or  Amulea,  an  excellent  example  of  the  possi- 
bilities of  brick  in  graceful  dignity  and  power.  It  is 
little  used  except  on  that  annual  occasion  when  this 
whole  immense  space  becomes  alive  and  teeming, — 
the  yearly  fair  of  the  Festival  of  St.  Anthony,  June 
13-16;  then  does  the  deserted  piazza  blossom  far  and 
wide  with  the  crowded  umbrellas,  tents  and  canvas 
roofs  of  traders  and  entertainers  from  all  over  Italy; 
while  these  groves  resound  with  music  and  the  laugh- 
ter of  thousands,  these  avenues  reecho  with  the  hoof- 
beats  and  cheers  of  horse-races,  and  from  those  Gothic 
loggie  orators  speak,  and  authorities  bestow  the  prizes. 
It  is  one  of  the  last,  great,  characteristic  Italian  fairs 
remaining  to  us  from  the  Middle  Ages;  and  is  spe- 
cially interesting  because  its  inauguration,  in  1275, 
was  made   to  celebrate  the  city's  release  from   the 

1  It  was  this  "vulgar,  fknntinp  statuary"  that  roused  the  wrath  of 

Mr.  William   I  la/lilt  ;  "the  most  clumsy,  affected,  paltry,  sprawling  fiK'irvs 

cut  in  stone,  that  ever  disgraced  tin-  chisel!"  (Haelitt'i  Journey  through 
Franc*  »n<l  Italy  in  18£6.)     Ami  yet    they  are    but  ordinary,  everyday 

l>aroqiii--work. 


88  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

terrible  clutches  of  Ezzclino.  All  over  Italy,  too,  that 
festival  of  St.  Anthony,  protector  of  children,  is  cele- 
brated with  churchly  pomp.  We  had  been  in  Venice 
when  last  it  occurred,  and  well  remembered  the  holy 
week  of  services,  fasting,  and  entertainments,  in  all 
the  parishes  of  the  city.  Many  important  events  oc- 
curred on  this  broad  area  during  the  Middle  Ages, 
when  it  had  become  a  desolate  swamp,  outside  the 
city  walls.  It  was  the  scene  of  many  a  desperate  battle 
between  the  Paduans  and  besieging  foes.  Here  Pietro 
della  Yigna  made  his  memorable  speech  to  the  citizens, 
on  behalf  of  the  Emperor  Frederick  II.  It  was  never 
fully  drained  again  until  the  eighteenth  century,  when 
the  Venetian  Government  dug  the  present  elliptical 
canal,  with  its  trees  and  statues. 

Our  stroll  was  finally  turned  to  the  southeast, 
where  we  observed  the  piazza  to  be  dominated  by 
a  massive  pile  of  religious  buildings,  the  foremost  of 
which  was  a  huge  church  topped  by  various  Byzantine 
domes,  with  a  tall,  unfinished,  rough-brick  facade, 
above  a  flight  of  wide-spreading  steps.  They  were  the 
convent  and  church  of  S.  Giustina,  the  renowned 
female  saint  of  Padua,  who  was  the  daughter  of  the 
barbarian  King  Vitalicino  (or  Vitaliano)  and  was 
martyred  by  the  Emperor  Maximian.  According  to 
the  legend,  Venetia's  conversion  to  Christianity  was 
commenced  by  St.  Mark,  and  upon  the  latter's  call  to 
Rome  by  St.  Peter,  was  continued  by  St.  Prosdocimo, 
St.  Mark's  disciple,  who  became  the  first  Bishop  of 
Padua.  By  healing  hundreds  of  sufferers  afflicted  with 
the  plague,  he  won  the  attention  and  belief  of  the 
barbarian  monarch,  Vitalicino,  then  holding  sway  at 
Padua,  who  was  forthwith  baptized,  together  with  his 
daughter  and  all  his  court.  Giustina  devoted  her  life 
to  the  cause,  and  died  rather  than  yield  herself  to 


PADUA  AND  S.  ANTONIO  89 

Maximian.  She  and  Prosdocimo  therefore  became  the 
city's  patron  saints;  which  glory  they  shared  until 
St.  Anthony  was  added  to  them,  in  1232. 

We  crossed  to  the  church,  which  was  first  built  in 
453,  when  its  wealth  of  treasures  and  embellishments 
drew  the  praises  of  several  of  the  early  chroniclers. 
That  edifice,  however,  was  finally  demolished  by  the 
great  earthquake  of  1117.  This,  the  third  church,  was 
commenced  in  1502  from  the  plans  of  the  brilliant 
architect,  Fra  Girolamo  of  Brescia,  and  carried  grad- 
ually to  completion  through  the  genius  of  Andrea 
Briosco  (or  Riccio),  Alessandro  Leopardi  of  Venice, 
and  Andrea  Morone  of  Bergamo.  The  result  is  an 
undying  monument  to  their  abilities.  Two  relics  still 
survive  from  the  earliest  edifice,  —  the  pair  of  medi- 
eval lions,  or  griffins,  flanking  the  main  portal. 

The  extensive  convent,  with  its  several  fine  cloisters, 
has  now  been  handed  over  to  the  soldiery,  whom  we 
saw  lolling  about  the  doorways  on  the  right.  It  was 
there  that  the  Emperor  Frederick  II  stayed,  with  his 
brilliant  retinue  of  knights  and  noblemen,  when  visit- 
ing Ezzelino  in  January,  1239;  and  the  latter  provided 
him  with  shows  and  entertainments  of  such  magnifi- 
cence, that  he  felt  obliged  to  declare  he  had  never  any- 
where seen  their  equal.  Mounting  the  church  steps, 
and  running  successfully  the  gauntlet  of  the  many  beg- 
gars waiting  to  waylay  pilgrims,  we  entered  at  once 
the  nave,  which  is  of  splendid  Renaissance  lines  and 
impressive  proportions.  A  sense  of  exceeding  spacious- 
ness and  beauty  enveloped  us,  purely  from  the  size  and 
harmony  of  the  parts;  for  all  has  been  whitewashed, 
save  the  brown  capitals  of  the  pilasters,  the  cornice, 
;iikI  the  yellowish  ribs  of  the  lofty,  arched  roof.  The 
choir  contributes  sensibly  to  the  effect,  with  its  wide 
semicircle  of  rich  oak  stalls,  radiating,  as  a  sculptured 


90  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

whole,  a  thousand  exquisite  curved  lines  and  surfaces; 
and  the  five  domes  far  overhead  lend  their  majesty. 
All  of  these  imposing  features,  in  spite  of  the  absence 
of  rich  marbles  and  sculpture,  as  Sir  Henry  Wotton 
felt  impelled  to  remark,  "do  yet  ravish  the  beholder 
(and  he  knows  not  how)  by  a  secret  harmony  in  the 
proportions."1  It  is  one  of  the  finest  examples  of 
the  pure  classical  revival,  adapted  to  ecclesiastical  uses. 
The  nave,  three  hundred  and  sixty-four  feet  long  by 
ninety-eight  feet  wide,  is  flanked  by  lofty  aisles  and 
rows  of  chapels;  and  the  spacious  transept  reaches  a 
breadth  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet. 

In  the  right  aisle  we  found  a  fine  canvas  by  Luca 
Giordano  over  the  fourth  altar,  —  the  Death  of  St. 
Scholastica,  of  deep  expressiveness  and  true  genius, — 
and  a  less  worthy  Palma  Giovane  over  the  fifth,  repre- 
senting St.  Benedict  and  his  disciples.  At  the  end  of 
the  right  transept  an  open  passage  led  us  to  two  dark, 
curious  little  chapels,  occupied  by  a  number  of  pray- 
ing devotees:  the  first  containing  a  well,  at  the  bottom 
of  which  lie  the  bones  of  many  early  Paduan  martyrs, 
a  grating  into  the  former  prison  of  S.  Daniele,  and, 
adjacent  below,  the  catacomb  holding  the  original 
graves  of  S.  Giustina  and  S.  Prosdocimo.  It  seems 
that  in  the  year  1050  the  then  bishop,  Bernando,  was 
granted  a  vision  during  his  sleep,  in  which  he  saw  the 
bodies  of  St.  Julian  and  many  other  martyrs,  buried 
here  underground;  whereupon  he  proceeded  to  exca- 
vate, discovering  not  only  the  remains  revealed  during 
his  slumber,  but  also  the  corpses  of  St.  Maximus  and 
St.  Felicita.  Such  was  the  origin  of  the  well.  As  for 
Saints  Giustina  and  Prosdocimo,  the  former  now  lies 
beneath  the  high-altar  of  the  church,  and  the  latter, 
under  the  side-altar  devoted  to  his  worship. 

1  L.  P.  Smith,  Sir  Henry  Wotton  ;  Life  and  Letters. 


PADUA  AND  S.   ANTONIO  91 

The  second  chapel,  of  S.  Luca,  was  adorned  with 
a  recumbent  statue  of  the  latter  saint  before  the  altar, 
some  frescoes  by  Campagnola,  and  over  the  altar  a 
painted,  gold-framed  head  of  the  Madonna,  alleged 
to  have  been  brought  from  Constantinople  in  the 
eighth  century,  and  to  be  very  holy.  It  was  this  last 
object  that  the  devout  were  worshiping,  including  a 
country  parish  priest  who  told  me  in  an  awed  whisper 
of  the  miracles  which  it  had  peformed.  I  responded 
that  it  looked  to  me  exceedingly  like  a  very  modern 
painting,  which  could  not  be  at  best  over  a  hundred 
years  old;  whereat  the  good  man  was  deeply  horrified, 
and  assured  me  fervently  that  the  legend  was  true. 

We  returned  to  the  nave,  at  whose  upper  end,  in  a 
chapel  to  the  right  of  the  choir,  is  a  beautiful  marble 
Pieta,  of  several  life-size  figures,  —  a  seventeenth-cen- 
tury work,  by  Parodi,  remarkably  executed  and  of 
much  feeling.  Then  we  inspected  the  striking  choir- 
stalls.  They  are  divided  by  double  arms,  the  lower 
of  which  are  all  carved  alike,  but  the  upper  all  dif- 
ferently; from  the  latter  rise  slim,  oak,  Corinthian 
columns  to  the  rich  entablature,  upon  which  stand 
charming  putti  between  the  head-pieces;  while  on 
each  back  are  two  scenes  cut  in  relief,  the  lower 
from  the  Old  Testament  and  the  upper  from  the  New, 
different  witli  every  stall.  These  reliefs  were  executed 
from  designs  by  Campagnola  about  1556,  and  are  not 
individually  of  much  excellence;  but  the  whole  effect 
is  extraordinarily  pleasing.  It  is  greatly  added  to  by 
the  huge  canvas  of  Paolo  Veronese  on  the  end  wall, 
with  its  beautiful  gilded  frame,  whose  double  columns 
on  each  side  and  heavy  entablature  are  in  form  and 
size  somewhat  like  a  Corinthian  temple;  the  picture, 
representing  the  martyrdom  of  S.  Giustina,  though 
riotous  in  rich  colors,  has  the  faults  of  Veronese's 


92  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

later  works  in  being  too  crowded,  diffuse  and  unrest- 
ful,  —  in  a  word,  unsatisfactory,  almost  unmeaning, 
upon  closer  inspection. 

By  a  door  to  right  of  the  choir,  through  a  long  pass- 
age, we  visited  the  remaining  fragment  of  the  original, 
early  church,  -  -  its  choir,  which  has  stalls  with  panels 
of  tarsia-work  that  are  quaint  but  not  unusual;  then 
we  returned  to  the  left  transept,  and  inspected  the 
church's  most  interesting  relic.  This  is  an  iron  case 
against  the  north  wall,  barred  with  strips  of  iron 
across  its  open  top,  but  permitting  one  to  see  within 
two  coffins,  one  inside  the  other,  mouldering  in  deep 
decay:  the  very  coffers  in  which  the  body  of  St.  Luke 
(according  to  the  legend)  was  carried  from  Constan- 
tinople to  Venice  in  1177.  There  is  said  to  be  some 
possibility  of  truth  in  the  story;  at  any  rate,  it  brought 
vividly  home  to  me,  as  never  before,  a  sense  of  the 
actual  corporeal  existence  of  those  figures  usually  so 
mystical,  —  our  Saviour  and  his  apostles.  Under  the 
tomb  in  the  centre  of  this  transept,  also,  which  is 
handsomely  adorned  with  serpentine  and  alabaster, 
are  alleged  to  lie  some  of  the  portions  of  St.  Luke's 
earthlv  frame. 

Another  interesting  place  in  this  same  quarter  of 
the  city  is  the  garden  of  the  Palazzo  Giustinian,  which 
we  found  not  far  from  S.  Antonio,  on  the  north  side  of 
the  Via  Cesarotti  running  eastward  from  the  Piazza 
del  Santo.  The  palazzo  itself  is  a  later  construction,  on 
the  site  of  the  Early-Renaissance  palace  of  Alvise  Cor- 
naro;  but  in  the  garden  to  the  rear  still  remain  the 
delightful  casino,  loggia,  and  arcades  built  for  Cor- 
naro  by  Falconetto,  about  1524.  The  latter  was  then 
over  sixty  years  of  age,  at  the  height  of  his  powers. 
Bart.  Ridolfi  collaborated  in  executing  the  rich  stucco 
decorations,  and  Dom.  Campagnola  in  painting  the 


PADUA  AND  S.   ANTONIO  93 

Raphaelesque  frescoes.  Their  combined  work  produced 
a  charming  example  of  the  fanciful,  high-Renaissance, 
palatial  architecture  and  decoration,  on  mythological 
lines,  in  the  manner  of  Giulio  Romano  that  glorified 
the  superb  Reggia  of  the  Gonzaghi;  almost  the  only 
example  of  that  work  still  remaining  to  Padua,  and, 
considering  all  things,  in  fair  condition.  The  two- 
storied  arcades,  prettily  draped  with  vines,  connect 
the  rear  loggia  with  the  casino,  and  the  latter  with  the 
palace,  running  along  their  eastern  sides.  The  loggia 
consists  of  open  arcades  surmounted  by  a  single  large 
hall,  used  for  banquets;  a  purely  classical,  stone  struc- 
ture, adorned  with  statues  in  external  niches,  and 
stucco-framed  frescoes  in  the  archways.  In  the  casino 
many  small  rooms,  elegantly  decorated  on  their  ceil- 
ings with  stucchi  and  arabesques,  surround  the  octa- 
gonal music-room  of  the  ground  floor  and  the  open 
loggia  of  the  upper;  the  latter,  as  well  as  the  portal, 
being  further  adorned  with  marble  divinities  posed  in 
niches. 

There  was  another  prominent  building  of  Padua 
which  we  had  not  yet  visited,  -  -  the  so-called  Scuola 
del  Carmine,  adjacent  to  the  church  of  that  name 
which  we  had  passed  on  our  walk  to  and  from  the  sta- 
tion. I  remember  that  we  went  to  it  on  the  afternoon 
of  this  same  day;  and  after  briefly  looking  over  the 
well-proportioned  church,  with  its  excellent  specimen 
of  Varotari  (Fadovanino)  on  the  last  altar  to  the  right, 
we  were  passing  through  the  passage  on  the  east  side 
leading  to  the  annexed  cloister,  when  we  encount- 
ered the  parroco  himself.  He  was  a  tall,  spare,  broad- 
ghouldered  man  of  about  forty,  neatly  dressed,  with 
classic,  intellectual  features  and  handsome  eyes, — 
one  <>f  thai  fine  type  of  Italian  gentlemen,  courteous 
and  learned,   who  cheerfully  resign  all  ambitions  for 


<H  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

a  life  of  well-doing  and  brotherly  love.  He  was  in- 
stantly interested  in  onr  quest  and  in  rendering  us 
what  service  he  could:  took  us  into  the  cloister, 
where  a  number  of  small  boys  were  playing,  pointed 
out  the  beauties  of  its  old  columns  and  arches,  told  us 
of  the  school  which  had  taken  the  place  of  the  bygone 
monks,  and  finally  conducted  us  to  the  former  oratorio, 
—  a  large  chamber  next  the  street,  —  where  he  ex- 
plained with  eloquent  criticism  the  frescoes  covering 
its  walls.  Then  with  rare  thoughtfulness  and  dignity 
he  left  us  alone  to  consider  the  paintings,  impressed 
deeply  by  his  powerful  but  delightful  personality. 

'You  see,"  I  said  to  my  companions,  "there  are 
still  Italians  like  Doctor  Antonio."  Yet  this  was  no 
very  exceptional  parroco;  hundreds  such,  perhaps 
thousands,  live  their  modest,  unselfish  lives,  all  over 
Italy;  I  have  met  a  score  of  them  myself,  first  and  last. 

The  frescoes  that  still  shone  brightly  from  the  four 
walls  of  the  low-roofed  chapel,  were  divided  into  a  dozen 
large  scenes,  with  figures  near  life-size,  impressively 
scattered  before  'charming  landscapes  and  architect- 
ure,—  of  striking  differences  in  style  and  treatment, 
yet  all  of  light  tone  and  coloring,  and  collectively  of 
most  engaging  effect.  They  portray  scenes  from  the 
life  of  the  Virgin  and  her  parents,  and  were  executed 
by  Titian  and  several  Paduan  cinquecentists .  The 
poorest,  ascribed  to  the  lesser  artist,  Dario  Campag- 
nola,  are  fortunately  on  the  window  wall;  on  the  long 
space  of  the  left  wall  are  four  by  Girolamo  da  Santa 
Croce,  better  than  most  of  his  other  preserved  works, 
of  a  composition  and  movement  that  are  dignified, 
graceful,  and  pleasing,  though  lacking  in  individual 
grace  of  feature,  and  expression;  their  realism,  too, 
is  injured  by  the  too  general  introduction  of  six- 
teenth-century costumes  alongside  the  Biblical  per- 


PADUA  AND  S.   ANTONIO  95 

sonages.  In  the  Sposalizio  young  long-hosed  gallants 
of  the  cinquecento  even  stand  on  the  platform  beside 
the  bridegroom.  By  some  critics,  these  four  tableaux 
are  accredited  to  Giulio  Campagnola,  the  father  of 
Titian's  pupil,  Domenico.  The  three  pictures  of  the 
Nativity,  the  Circumcision,  and  the  Magi,  on  the 
entrance-wall,  by  Dom.  Campagnola,  have  figures 
more  natural  and  better  modeled,  of  excellent  spacing 
and  disposition,  though  also  wanting  the  divine  spark 
of  genius.  The  group  of  St.  Joseph,  the  Virgin,  and 
the  Divine  Child  just  born,  is  especially  attractive. 

But  when  we  turned  to  the  altar-wall,  true  genius 
struck  us  with  its  power,  never  better  emphasized  than 
by  these  surroundings:  it  was  a  Titian,  sadly  injured, 
but  glowing  still  in  all  its  harmonics  of  line  and  color, 
—  the  meeting  of  Saints  Joachim  and  Anna  at  the 
Golden  Gate.  What  a  contrast  to  the  others  were 
these  forms  of  solidity  and  actuality,  with  their  pro- 
found expression  of  true  love  relieved  from  fears. 
Beside  them,  on  the  altar,  was  a  contrast  still  greater 
as  to  beautv,  —  a  little  canvas  of  the  Madonna  and 
Child  by  Palma  Vecchio,  of  his  exquisite  purcness  of 
line  and  richness  of  shade.  It  was  the  same  lovely, 
noble  countenance  that  looks  forth  from  his  Santa 
Barbara  at  Venice,  and  is  possessed  by  so  many  of  his 
illustrious  women. 

The  remainder  of  our  stay  in  Padua  was  devoted  to 
the  objects  of  minor  interest,  concerning  which  I  shall 
be  brief.  Two  of  them  are  found  in  the  cent  ml  section: 
the  Scuola  S.  Rocco,  abutting  on  the  little  Piazza  of 
3.  Lucia,  and  the  Church  of  S.  Pietro,  a  little  west 
of  the  University  Library.  The  latter  contains  pictures 
by  Varotari  and  Palma  Giovane,  and  a  colored  terra- 
cotta  relief  by  Bellano;  the  main  ball  <>f  the  former  is 
plcas.'int  \\  frescoed  by  Titian's  disciples,  —  Gualtiero, 


96  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Dom.  Campagnola,  and  Stefano  dall'  Arziere.  In  the 
soutbera  section,  S.  Michele,  just  beyond  Ezzelino's 
castle,  contains  some  interesting,  early,  anonymous 
frescoes;  and  in  S.  Maria  in  Vanzo,  close  at  hand  on 
the  cast,  may  be  seen  some  of  Dom,  Campagnola's 
best  work,  besides  a  good  Entombment  by  Jacopo 
Bassano,  and  a  splendid,  though  injured,  Madonna 
with  Saints  by  Bart.  Montagna  of  Vicenza.  In  the 
cast  tin  section,  a  good  walk  takes  one  first  to  S. 
Francesco,  a  short  way  beyond  Dante's  house;  where 
he  finds  a  delightful  series  of  frescoes  by  Titian's  pupil, 
Girolamo  del  Santo,  a  high-altar  piece  by  Paolo  Vero- 
onese  (representing  the  Ascension),  examples  of  Palma 
Giovane  and  Dom.  Campagnola,  and  the  fragments 
of  the  splendid  bronze  tomb  of  Pietro  Roccabonella, 
which  was  begun  by  Bellano  and  finished  by  Riccio. 
Continuing  from  this  eastward,  past  the  great  building 
of  the  Ospitale  Civile,  one  reaches  the  little  Church  of 
S.  Massimo,  in  the  street  of  the  same  name,  with  its 
three  fine  specimens  of  the  art  of  G.  B.  Tiepolo;  and 
some  distance  beyond  that,  at  the  eastern  limits  of  the 
city,  he  arrives  at  the  imposing  Renaissance  gate  of 
the  Porta  Portello,  which  was  designed  in  1518  by 
Guglielmo  Gigli  of  Bergamo,  in  the  form  of  a  Roman 
triumphal  arch,  very  richly  decorated,  —  an  inter- 
mediate between  the  styles  of  the  Lombardi  and  Pal- 
ladio.  Two  other  city  gates,  both  constructed  by 
Falconetto,  are  worthy  of  inspection  by  him  who 
makes  a  long  stay,  —  the  Porta  S.  Giovanni  and  the 
Porta  Savonarola;  they  are  excellent  examples  of 
the  most  classical  period  of  the  Revival. 


CHAPTER  IV 

VICENZA   THE   PALATIAL 

Beneath  is  spread  like  a  green  sea 
The  waveless  plain  of  Lombardy, 
Bounded  by  the  vaporous  air, 
Islanded  by  cities  fair. 

The  old  words  of  Shelley  repeated  themselves  softly 
in  my  mind  as  I  looked  from  the  window  of  the  express 
which  was  rushing  northwestward  to  Vicenza.  So 
perfectly  flat  was  the  ground  that  even  this  slight 
elevation  commanded  quite  a  view,  —  always  the 
same:  innumerable  fields  of  wheat  and  Indian  corn, 
occasional  orchards,  with  garlands  of  vines  swinging 
from  tree  to  tree  in  Umbrian  fashion,  then  corn  again, 
always  corn,  lifting  its  tall  stalks  in  countless  parallel 
rows  that  waved  gently  in  the  early  morning  breeze. 
Between  the  fields  ran  lines  of  trees  as  fences,  often 
also  across  the  fields  in  rows,  a  rod  or  so  apart,  — 
elm,  ash,  beech,  horse-chestnut,  and  especially  the  deli- 
cate mulberry,  for  the  silk-worm  cultivation;  while 
willows  in  general  shaded  the  banks  of  the  many  ir- 
rigating-ditches,  and  tall  poplars  marked  the  frequent 
roads,  breaking  the  cold  winds  that  sweep  the  plain 
in  winter  and  early  spring. 

Richness  was  the  distinguishing  characteristic  of 
this  wonderful  alluvial  country,  and  denseness  of  pop- 
'il.it  ion,  —  the  two  concomitant  qualities  that  have 
made  the  nations  fight  for  it  since  time  immemorial. 
The  ploughed  or  upturned  earth  was  always  black 
and  loamy,  looking  of  primeval  wealth;  the  crops  had 


98  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

a  growth,  the  vegetation  a  luxuriance,  such  as  one 
seldom  sees  anywhere  else,  —  the  only  discordant 
element  being  the  stunted  majority  of  the  trees,  stout 
knobby  trunks  crowned  with  sprouts  of  this  year's 
shooting,  that  showed  the  practice  prevalent  here  as 
elsewhere  in  Italy  of  stripping  off  the  boughs  for  fuel. 
The  peasants  in  fact  have  nothing  else  to  burn.  But 
the  obtruding  feature  of  the  landscape  was  the  con- 
stant presence  of  habitations;  everywhere  over  the 
meadows  rose  the  wrhite  walls  of  houses,  shining  from 
surrounding  foliage,  sometimes  single  but  as  often  in 
village  groups;  —  always  the  presence  of  man,  be- 
trayed if  in  no  other  way  by  the  never-absent  cam- 
panili  of  his  churches.  When  I  think  of  Lombardy, 
that  image  rises  in  my  mind,  —  of  slender  towers 
soaring  far  above  a  great  sea  of  vegetation,  capped 
with  spires  or  pointed  cupolas,  upon  belfries  of  round 
arches  and  white  stone  shafts;  near  at  hand,  in  the 
middle  distance,  far-away  and  haze-shrouded,  each 
marks  an  invisible  town,  with  scores  or  hundreds  of 
teeming,  crowded  old  dwellings,  dominated  by  their 
parish  churches  with  swelling  Byzantine  domes,  that 
often  are  seen  afar  beside  the  campanili;  and  if  one 
stops  to  listen,  in  the  leaf-rustling  silence  there  steals 
upon  the  ear  the  music  of  their  bells,  at  early  morn, 
at  sun-stilled  noon,  at  balmy,  roseate  eventide,  surg- 
ing from  every  direction  over  the  tree-tops,  blending 
into  a  chime  whose  mellow  tones  seem  laden  with  all 
the  sorrows  of  the  tragic  past. 

Often  the  train  ran  through,  or  by,  these  little 
plain-towns,  affording  quick  glimpses  of  dirty,  cobble- 
paved  streets,  shadowed  by  tall,  crumbling,  dirty 
buildings,  with  old  stucco  walls  stained  or  crudely 
colored,  dark  archways,  littered  courtyards,  sunlit 
piazzas  occupied  by  ancient  well-covers  and  women 


I 


VICEXZA.     PALAZZO  W 


<;in\i      i  \ i  i . \ i ■  i - > 


VICEXZA  THE  PALATIAL  99 

filling  jars,  dilapidated  rococo  church  facades,  narrow 
ways  blocked  by  clumsy  wagons  harnessed  to  sleepy 
oxen,  and  everywhere  children,  rolling  in  the  dirt, 
playing,  crying,  running  beside  the  track.  When 
passed  at  a  little  distance  they  were  more  pleasing 
to  the  eye,  —  the  solidly  massed  white  walls  seen 
through  intervening  verdure,  with  their  uniform  red- 
tiled  roofs,  little  surrounding  gardens,  and  picturesque 
towers  soaring  against  the  blue.  All  these  small  un- 
walled  towns  are  as  much  a  development  of  the  three 
last  centuries  as  are  the  solitary  farmhouses  that  now 
dot  the  landscape,  —  an  evolution  of  more  peaceful 
days.  Often  we  passed  close  to  one  of  the  latter,  but 
its  wall-inclosed  front  yard  littered  with  straw  and 
manure-piles,  its  filthy  stables  and  pig-pens  under  the 
same  roof  (sometimes  under  the  very  floor)  of  the 
living-rooms,  its  whole  appearance  and  air  of  decay 
and  neglect,  showed  little  advancement  over  the  ignor- 
ance of  the  Middle  Ages.  Of  course  there  were  excep- 
tions,—  dwellings  clean  and  well-kept;  and  now  and 
then  my  eyes  were  also  gladdened  by  the  sight  of  a 
charming  villa,  set  amidst  lawns  and  shady  grounds. 
The  roads  were  very  frequent,  invariably  of  splendid 
form  and  firmness,  and  their  travelers  were  invariably 
the  slow-moving  teams  of  white  or  creamy  oxen.  The 
streams  were  fully  as  frequent,  of  a  number  and  size 
always  astonishing  to  the  traveler  upon  his  first  visit 
to  Lombardy,  bearing  swiftly  to  the  sea  the  endless 
melted  snows  of  the  Alps,  and  often  adorned  with  old 
mills  and  huge  revolving  wheels.  About  the  only  re- 
minders or  relies  of  the  distant  past  were  the  occa- 
sional, bat  tlemented,  dark  walls  and  lowers  of  a  castle 
of  the  dark  ages,  looming  over  the  tree-tops  as  grimly 
a-  in  days  of  lame  and  foray,  though  often  now  but 
a  ruined  and  empty  shell. 


100  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Such  wore  the  regular  features  of  the  plain;  but 
to-day,  as  the  express  rushed  on  without  a  stop,  my 
gaze  roamed  on  beyond  them  to  the  south,  to  an 
appearance  not  always  present,  that  crowned  the 
landscape  with  its  majesty.  This  was  the  lofty  out- 
line of  the  Euganean  Hills,  upon  which  the  poet 
penned  those  lines  about  the  plain.  There  they 
swelled  in  the  blue,  hazy  distance,  in  all  their  beauty  of 
curving  lines  and  smiling,  village-dotted  flanks,  add- 
ing to  the  scene  that  touch  of  grandeur  without  which 
its  flatness  might  become  monotonous.  It  is  a  curious 
position  that  they  occupy,  so  far  isolated  from  the 
mother  Alps;  but  they  are  not  alone  in  this.  For,  as 
we  left  them  gradually  to  rear,  washed  upon  the  west 
by  a  sea  of  verdure  that  stretched  to  the  horizon,  from 
this  same  sea  ahead  I  saw  another  hill-chain  rising, 
the  brother  of  the  Euganean  in  general  shape  and  out- 
line. It  was  the  Monti  Berici,  the  first  outwork  of  the 
Alps  thrown  southward  upon  the  plain,  as  the  Colli 
Euganei  are  the  second.  So  much  nearer  to  the  moun- 
tains are  the  Berici  that  a  narrow  valley  only  inter- 
venes on  their  northwest;  and  it  is  exactly  at  the  east- 
ern end  of  this  defile  that  is  located  the  city  of  Vicenza. 
From  the  rich  slopes  of  the  wooded  hills,  dotted  white 
with  a  thousand  villas,  my  thoughts  turned  to  the 
ancient  town  which  we  were  so  rapidly  approaching, 
looking  backward  from  its  strategical  situation  in 
command  of  this  important  pass,  to  the  part  in  history 
that  it  has  played. 

Vicenza,  it  is  true,  has  never  been  large  enough  to 
act  a  leading  part,  and  has  been  affiliated  in  turn  with 
the  fortunes  of  her  stronger  neighbors,  Padua,  Verona, 
Milan,  and  Venice;  but  she  was  important  enough  to 
be  one  of  the  first  prizes  for  which  those  powers  hun- 
gered and  fought,  and  has  consequently  endured  more 


VICEXZA  THE  PALATIAL  101 

vicissitudes  than  if  she  had  been  independent.  When 
she  had  struggled  from  early  medieval  darkness  into 
a  self-sustaining  municipality,  which  fought  bravely 
as  a  member  of  the  two  Lombard  Leagues  against 
the  two  Imperial  Fredericks,  —  like  Padua  and  all  the 
cities  of  this  region,  she  fell  into  the  diabolical 
clutches  of  Ezzelino,  and  encountered  the  greatest 
disaster  of  her  history  in  being  assaulted  by  the  Im- 
perial troops  in  1236,  and  almost  utterly  destroyed  by 
sack  and  fire.  When  she  re-arose  with  courage  from 
her  ashes,  there  immediately  ensued  one  of  the  strang- 
est occurrences  of  all  times,  —  the  career  of  Fra  Gio- 
vanni of  Vicenza. 

This  extraordinary  man  was  a  Dominican  monk, 
who  "undertook  the  noble  task  of  pacifying  Lom- 
banly.  Every  town  in  the  north  of  Italy  was  at  that 
time  torn  by  the  factions  of  the  Guelphs  and  Ghibel- 
lines;  private  feuds  crossed  and  intermingled  with 
political  discords;  and  the  savage  tyranny  of  Ezzelino 
had  shaken  the  fabric  of  society  to  its  foundations. 
It  seemed  utterly  impossible  to  bring  this  people  for 
a  moment  to  agreement.  Yet  what  popes  and  princes 
had  failed  to  achieve,  the  voice  of  a  single  friar  accom- 
plished."1 Fra  Giovanni  commenced  his  wonderful 
preaching  at  Bologna  in  1233,  where  his  eloquent  de- 
pictions of  the  horrors  of  warfare,  and  the  beauties 
of  reconciliation  and  forgiveness,  so  moved  every 
class  of  the  populace  thai  enmities  were  laid  aside 
and  order  installed.  Then  he  moved  to  Padua,  where 
he  was  received  with  great  enthusiasm,  and  soon 
accomplished  similar  results.  'Treviso,  Fell  re,  Bel- 
luno,  Conegliano,  and  Romano,  the  very  nests  of  the 
grim  brood  of  Ezzelino,  yielded  i<>  I  he  charm.  Verona, 
where  the  Scalas  were  about  to  reign,  Vicenza,  Man- 

.  moruls,  Age  of  tin  Despots,  Appendii  rv. 


102  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

tua,  and  Brescia,  all  placed  themselves  at  the  disposi- 
tion of  the  monk,  and  prayed  him  to  reform  their 
constitution."1 

Finally  Fra  Giovanni  played  his  great  stroke,  and 
"bade  the  burghers  of  all  the  towns  where  he  had 
preached  to  meet  him  on  the  plain  of  Pasquara,  in  the 
country  of  Verona.  .  .  .  More  than  four  hundred  thou- 
sand persons  .  .  .  appeared  on  the  scene.  This  multi- 
tude included  the  populations  of  Verona,  Mantua, 
Brescia,  Padua,  and  Vicenza,  marshaled  under  their 
several  standards,"  besides  contingents  from  many 
other  places,  and  a  large  aggregation  of  princes  and 
ruling  nobles.  So  forcibly  did  the  friar  address  them, 
with  such  powers  of  hypnotic  influence,  that  he  in- 
duced all  present  to  swear  to  a  friendly  confedera- 
tion, —  another  league  of  the  Lombard  cities,  which 
should  establish  peace  upon  a  firm  foundation.  What 
stranger  incident  in  history  than  this!  Sad  it  is,  then, 
to  see  with  what  human  frailty  Fra  Giovanni  undid 
his  glorious  work.  Giddy  with  success,  he  made  the 
people  of  Vicenza  and  Verona  appoint  him  their  sov- 
ereign lord,  with  "the  titles  of  Duke  and  Count.  The 
people,  believing  him  to  be  a  saint,  readily  acceded 
to  his  wishes."  But  once  in  possession  of  absolute 
power,  the  friar's  whole  nature  seemed  to  undergo  a 
change;  the  frenzy  of  persecuting  fancied  heretics 
seized  him,  and  his  blood-guiltiness  became  like  that 
of  Ezzelino.  At  last,  when  he  had  burned  at  the  stake 
sixty  prominent  Veronese  in  a  body,  the  populace  rose 
against  him  in  arms,  beat  down  his  guards,  and  in- 
carcerated him  in  a  dungeon.  He  came  forth  from  it, 
eventually,  to  find  himself  without  a  follower  in  the 
land,  and  sank  into  an  obscure  grave. 

Ezzelino  kept  his  heavy  hand  upon  Vicenza  until 

1  Symonds,  Age  of  the  Despots,  Appendix  iv. 


VICEXZA  THE  PALATIAL  103 

his  death  in  1259;  but  even  then  she  could  not  secure 
freedom,  for  the  ambitious  leaders  of  Padua  proceeded 
to  subjugate  her,  and  asserted  their  rule  until  1311, 
when  she  became  the  object  of  the  cupidity  of  the 
Delia  Scala,  newly  risen  despots  of  Verona.  War  for 
Vicenza's  possession  then  ensued,  in  which  the  Pad- 
uans  were  led  by  that  brilliant  soldier  Jacopo  da 
Carrara,  whom  seven  years  later  they  elected  to  be 
their  lord;  but  the  celebrated  Can  Grande,  greatest 
of  the  Delia  Scala,  was  at  the  head  of  the  Veronese 
forces,  and  dictated  Vicenza's  cession  in  1319  at  the 
gates  of  Padua  herself.  So  was  the  example  of  Ezze- 
lino  followed,  here  and  all  over  North  Italy,  and  his 
death  succeeded  by  the  upgrowth  of  a  swarm  of 
tyrants,  to  whom  the  fierce  local  struggles  between 
Guelfs  and  Ghibellines  gave  their  opportunity.  As 
time  went  on,  the  lesser  potentates  sank  one  by  one 
under  the  assaults  of  the  more  powerful,  and  their 
territories  were  absorbed  in  the  larger  states.  Thus 
the  Scaligers,  after  erecting  under  Can  Grande  a  king- 
dom of  huge  proportions,  fell  victims  in  rapid  decay  to 
the  power  of  the  Milanese  Visconti,  who  seized  Vicenza 
in  1387.  She  became  a  part  of  the  wide  territories 
accumulated  by  that  greatest  and  vilest  of  medieval 
d<  .spots,  Gian  Galeazzo  Visconti,  the  Viper,  whose 
unexpected  death  in  1404  alone  probably  saved  all 
Italy  from  union  under  his  yoke.  His  vast  posses- 
sions, from  the  Alps  to  the  states  of  Rome,  gathered 
by  such  an  infinitude  of  baseness  and  treachery, 
crumbled  to  pieces  at  a  stroke,  —  divided,  not  only 
between  liis  sods,  but  amongst  the  neighboring  de- 
spoiled and  covetous  powers.  Vieenza  was  claimed 
and  marched  upon  by  the  Carrara,  which  proved  to  be 
the  latters'  undoing;  for  while  theii  army  stood  before 
the  V  icentine  walks,  Gian  Galeazzo's  widow  called  the 


104  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Venetian  Republic  to  her  aid.  It  was  a  fatal  call.  Up 
to  this  time  Venice  had  chiefly  confined  her  mighty 
energies  to  the  sea;  now  she  turned  them  definitely 
upon  the  mainland;  with  irresistible  power  she  swept 
the  Carrara  out  of  Padua,  and  not  only  seized  that 
city  for  her  own,  but  also  Vicenza,  Bassano,  and 
Verona,  as  "the  price  for  her  support  of  the  Visconti," 
—  who  had  no  option  but  to  submit.  These  cities,  and 
their  outlying  territories,  were  the  second  enlargement 
of  the  Veneto,  which  had  commenced  with  the  Trevi- 
san  Marches  taken  some  time  before  from  Padua. 

Vicenza,  flattered,  embellished,  and  given  a  measure 
of  self-government  by  her  new  conqueror,  found  now 
that  peace  and  comfort  which  she  had  hitherto  vainly 
sought,  and  became  firmly  devoted  to  the  Venetian 
sway.  She  vigorously  supported  the  Mistress  of  the 
Sea  in  her  succeeding  wars  of  the  quattrocento,  endur- 
ing on  one  occasion,  for  her  sake,  a  siege  that  reduced 
the  inhabitants  to  eating  rats  and  grass,  and  almost 
decimated  them,  until,  after  months  of  heroic  suffer- 
ing, the  enemy  were  dislodged  by  a  succoring  Vene- 
tian army.  Venice  always  stood  by  her  subject  cities; 
but  when  the  League  of  Cambrai  in  1508  united 
against  her  all  the  great  powers  of  Europe,  seeing 
resistance  vain,  she  politically  offered  to  Vicenza  and 
the  other  towns  complete  freedom  of  action,  that 
they  might  surrender  without  destruction.  Vicenza 
accordingly  yielded  to  the  Imperialists;  but  soon 
after,  ashamed  of  such  conduct,  re-tendered  her  al- 
legiance to  the  Republic.  This  manly  though  imprud- 
ent course  brought  upon  the  city  its  second  great 
disaster;  for  the  Prince  of  Anhalt  proceeded  to  march 
upon  her,  in  1510,  dispersed  the  insufficient  Venetian 
forces  of  Commandant  Baglioni,  and  seized  the  place 
with  fury  and  rapine.    "The  people  of  Vicenza  also 


\  h  i.\/.\.     MADONNA     \M>  SAINTS,   IN   THE  CHURC '  SAN 

3TEFANO.    (PALMA    VECCHIO.1 


VICEXZA  THE  PALATIAL  105 

fled  before  the  invaders;  but  about  six  thousand,  who 
had  thought  to  conceal  themselves  in  a  disused  quarry 
near  the  town,  were  tracked  to  their  hiding-place,  and 
all  of  them  suffocated  by  the  orders  of  a  French  cap- 
tain of  adventure,  named  d'Herisson." x 

Even  this  terrible  event  did  not  destroy  the  people's 
Venetian  patriotism,  and  at  the  dissolution  of  the 
League  of  Cambrai,  along  with  all  their  sister  towns, 
they  returned  voluntarily  and  gladly  to  their  old 
allegiance;  —  wonderful  testimony  to  the  beneficence 
of  the  Republic's  rule.  At  the  final  extinction  of  the 
Republic  by  Bonaparte,  Vicenza  shared  the  fate  and 
vicissitudes  of  her  neighbors,  which  ended  in  the 
hateful  Austrian  domination.  In  the  glorious  Risorgi- 
mento  she  furnished  more  than  her  share  of  the  heroes, 
and  again  played  a  noble  and  courageous  part,  espe- 
cially in  the  war  of  1848-49. 

The  Austrian  general  Nugent  was  marching  west- 
ward his  corps  in  May,  1848,  to  unite  with  Marshal 
Radetsky's  army,  shut  up  in  the  Quadrilateral;  but 
when  he  came  to  Vicenza,  the  little  city,  guarded  only 
by  a  few  thousand  volunteers  and  Swiss  Papal  troops, 
to  the  Marshal's  astonishment  put  up  a  formidable 
defense.  Across  the  valley,  across  the  flanks  of  the 
enfolding  hills,  everywhere  the  heavy  Austrian  at- 
tacks were  intrepidly  rolled  back  for  hour  after  hour, 
the  women  assisting  at  the  barricades,  the  showers  of 
shells  falling  in  the  streets  being  greeted  only  by 
shouts  of  "  Viva  V Italia!"  So  roughly  were  the  Aus- 
trians  handled  that  they  gave  it  up,  and  started  across 
flic  Berici  Range  in  the  night,  toward  Verona.  Yel 
a  few  days  later  Radetskv  tried  to  take  his  revenge, 
by  Bending  back  24,000  men  and  54  guns  to  punish 
t be  insolenl  town. 

1   Brown,  Venice:  An  Historical  Sketch  of  t lie  Republic. 


106  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

The  Vicentines  were  now  reinforced  from  Venice, 
and  from  Padua  by  the  troops  of  General  Dorando, 
who  look  command;  and  all  night  long  on  the  23d  of 
May,  while  the  lightning  vied  in  flashing  with  the 
guns,  the  attacks  of  the  enemy  on  Monti  Berici  were 
met  and  driven  back.  "Fiery  missiles  fell  into  the 
town,  the  cannon  roared  on  the  walls  and  from  the 
barricades;  at  last,  on  the  next  morning,  after  pro- 
digious feats  of  valor,  in  which  the  Swiss  troops  took 
their  full  share,  the  enemy  retired,  after  having 
thrown  the  dead  and  wounded  into  the  flames.  .  .  . 
Thus  Vicenza  for  the  second  time  had  to  congratulate 
itself  on  its  escape."1  Sad  it  is,  then,  to  know,  after 
such  heroism,  that  Radetsky  himself  returned  on  the 
8th  of  June,  mounted  the  hills  to  the  south,  and,  ad- 
vancing on  their  crests,  succeeded  in  commanding  the 
city  with  his  guns,  and  so  forcing  its  surrender.  "Thus 
fell  Vicenza;  its  defense  is  the  more  remarkable  as  the 
city  was  without  regular  fortifications,  and  held  out 
simply  from  the  courage  of  its  brave  defenders."  2 

Vicenza  also  attained  an  honored  place  in  the  art 
of  the  Renaissance,  developing  her  own  distinctive 
schools  of  painting  and  architecture.  But  in  the 
former  her  importance  was  due  to  three  men  only: 
not  Mantegna,  in  spite  of  his  being  born  here,  for  he 
labored  elsewhere,  —  but  the  late  quattrocentist  Gio- 
vanni Speranza,  and  the  early  cinquecentists  Bar- 
tolommeo  Montagna  and  Giovanni  Buonconsiglio,  — 
the  great  part  of  whose  works  are  still  confined  to  their 
native  town,  beautifying  its  churches  and  palaces. 
Buonconsiglio's  tendencies  were  clearly  Venetian,  in 

1  Emilio  Dandolo,  The  Italian  Volunteers,  or  Lombard  Rifle  Brigade. 

2  Ibid.  —  It  was  here  that  Massimo  d'  Azelio,  while  taking  his  part 
bravely  in  the  defense,  received  the  musket-ball  in  his  leg.  As  he  wrote  to 
his  daughter  from  Ferrara  on  June  17,  —  "Dopo  aver  ditto  tutti  gli  forzi 
possibili,  si  e  capitolato,  avendo  avuto  onorevoli  condizioni." 


VICEXZA  THE  PALATIAL  107 

coloring  and  composition,  and  he  attained  consider- 
able beauty  in  his  pietistic  pictures;  but  Montagna's 
was  a  stronger  and  more  individual  spirit,  develop- 
ing marked  characteristics,  with  peculiar,  powerful 
figures,  striking  expressiveness,  and  much  study  of 
realism,  —  with  at  the  same  time  much  repose,  and 
exceeding  loveliness  in  tone  and  line.  So  distinctive 
are  his  works,  in  their  breadth  of  conception  gained 
by  his  years  of  travel,  that  for  the  art-lover  they  alone 
are  worth  a  journey  to  Vicenza.  Giovanni  Bellini, 
Cima  da  Conegliano,  and  particularly  Palma  Vecchio, 
turned  aside  from  their  Venetian  works  to  paint  some 
splendid  canvases  for  the  churches  of  Vicenza,  that 
are  also  well  worth  the  visit  in  themselves. 

But  it  is  in  the  department  of  architecture  that 
Vicenza  shone  preeminent;  for  she  produced  Tommaso 
Fromentone,  Vincenzo  Scamozzi,  Calderari,  and,  chief 
of  all,  the  great  Andrea  Palladio.1  The  latter  was 
born  and  educated  here,  and  spent  his  best  years  in 
adorning  the  city  that  he  loved,  until  the  imprint  of 
his  genius  shone  from  her  every  street,  and  she  be- 
came the  palatial  Vicenza  that  we  see  to-day.  Not 
only  did  Palladio  rebuild  his  own  town  into  a  vision 
of  beauty,  —  it  was  his  masterful  mind  that  gave  a 
new  impulse  in  the  middle  ciru/uecento  to  the  already 
decaying  architecture  of  the  Renaissance,  reverted  it 
to  the  first  principles  of  strength  and  harmony  of 
lines,  without  depending  on  adornment  for  effect, 
and  re-discovered  that  extensive  use  of  outer  columns 
which  was  more  true  to  the  Roman  styles,  and  has 
been  to  the  modern  world  the  chief  legacy  of  the 
classic.  In  a  word,  it  is  to  Palladio  that  we  owe  the 
final,  predominant  form  of  Renaissance  architecture. 

1  Vicenza  in  furtli<r  distinguished  as  tin-  home  <>f  Italy's  greatest  recent 
.1      izzaro,  who  died  there  l>ut  u  few  months  ugo. 


108  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

But  every  Englishman,  and  every  American,  owes 
him  a  special  debt:  it  was  from  Palladio's  style,  set 
forth  in  his  palaces  and  churches  at  Venice  and  Vi- 
cenza,  that  Inigo  Jones  and  the  English  artists,  at- 
tracted at  last  from  their  long  resistance,  drew  the 
forms  of  the  English  Renaissance, — which,  lightened 
and  slightly  modified  in  America  by  the  use  of  wooden 
materials,  became  her  one  native  style,  the  Colonial. 

The  revolution  which  Palladio  accomplished,  he 
did  by  discarding  all  that  had  immediately  preceded 
him,  and  going  straight  back  to  the  study  and  applica- 
tion of  antique  forms  and  lines,  as  seen  in  the  build- 
ings still  remaining  from  Roman  times.  Symonds 
says  of  him:  "The  greatest  builder  of  this  period  was 
Andrea  Palladio  of  Vicenza,  who  combined  a  more 
complete,  analytical  knowledge  of  antiquity  with  a 
firmer  adherence  to  rule  and  precedent,  than  even 
the  most  imitative  of  his  forerunners.  .  .  .  One  great 
public  building  of  Palladio  —  the  Palazzo  della 
Ragione  at  Vicenza  —  may  be  cited  as  perhaps  the 
culminating  point  of  pure  Renaissance  architecture."1 
And  Goethe:  "I  say  of  Palladio,  he  was  a  man  really 
and  intrinsically  great,  whose  greatness  was  out- 
wardly manifested.  .  .  .  What  an  imposing  effect 
have  his  edifices.  .  .  .  There  is  indeed  something 
divine  about  his  designs,  which  may  be  exactly  com- 
pared to  the  creations  of  the  great  poet,  who  out  of 
truth  and  falsehood  elaborates  something  between 
them  both,  and  charms  us  with  its  borrowed  exist- 
ence."2 

The  building  mentioned  by  Symonds  —  the  old 
Broletto,  or  town-hall,  of  Vicenza  —  was  externally 
rebuilt  by  Palladio  in  a  form  at  once  so  magnificent 
and  so  joyously  beautiful  that  it  is  not  only  his  mas- 

1  Symonds,  Fine  Arts.     2  Goethe,  Autobiography  ;  Letters  from  Italy. 


VICEXZA  THE  PALATIAL  109 

terpiece,  and  the  culminating  point  of  Renaissance 
architecture,  but  one  of  the  very  few  greatest  Italian 
structures  of  all  time  and  all  places.  I  knew  this  before 
going  there.  I  had  learnt  that  one  had  no  right  to 
think  he  knew  Italy,  who  had  not  observed  and 
studied  this  chef  d'ceuvre  of  her  artistic  perihelion.  It 
therefore  was  the  loadstone  that  drew  me  to  Vicenza, 
with  an  impatience  momentarily  greater  as  my  train 
approached  the  foot  of  the  Monti  Berici. 

We  crossed  a  small  stream;  it  was  the  Bacchiglione, 

—  still  the  Bacchiglione,  —  which  waters  Vicenza  long 
before  it  reaches  Padua.  The  Vicentines,  when  at 
their  frequent  wars  with  the  Paduans,  as  hereinbefore 
stated,  used  to  dam  it  up  south  of  their  city;  which 
converted  the  land  east  of  Monti  Berici  into  a  swamp, 
but  deprived  Padua  of  drinking-water  and  power. 
Dante  speaks  of  this,  — 

Ma  tosto  fia  che  Padova  al  palude 
Cangera  I'aqua  che  Vicenza  bagna 
Per  esser  al  dover  le  genti  crudi. 

Immediately  after,  we  crossed  another  small  stream, 

—  likewise  flowing  southward,  —  the  Retrone,  which 
here  unites  with  the  Bacchiglione,  after  the  former 
has  circled  the  city  upon  the  south  and  the  latter  upon 
the  north.  Then  we  stopped  in  a  covered  station, 
surprisingly  large  for  a  place  of  45,000;  from  which  I 
emerged  to  find  the  town  itself  well  to  the  north,  and 
a  wide  stretch  of  grassy  level  fields  intervening,  cov- 
ered near  the  walls  with  a  handsome  grove  of  giant 
plane  trees.  I  gave  my  bag  to  a  facchino  and  started 
on  foot  over  the  avenue  across  the  fields,  which 
proved  to  lead  straight  north  to  the  city's  southwest- 
ern gate;  but  before  I  reached  the  gate  I  had  a  charm- 
ing   sight,  —  a    promenade    diverging    southeasterly 


110  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

from  the  avenue,  through  the  plane  wood,  with 
arboreal  monarchs  on  each  side  arching  its  far,  shady 
vista.  Here,  as  I  subsequently  learned,  repair  the 
youth  and  fashion  of  Vieenza  on  summer  evenings,  to 
stroll  amid  the  scents  of  greenery  with  the  lamps  of 
fireflies  lighting  the  shadows. 

The  Porta  Castello  opened  before  me,  an  old  arch- 
way between  medieval  buildings,  dominated  by  the 
tall  picturesque  tower  which  the  Scaligers  built  during 
their  possession,  to  keep  watch  and  ward  over  the 
city  and  country.  Through  the  gate  I  entered  a  little 
piazza  of  the  same  name,  extending  transversely,  and 
saw  Vicenza's  main  thoroughfare,  the  Corso  Principe 
Umberto,  leading  straight  before  me  to  the  northeast 
for  a  long  way,  —  narrow  but  dignified,  shadowed  by 
impressive  Palladian  palaces.  It  in  fact  crosses  the 
city,  to  the  bridge  on  the  northeast  over  the  Bacchi- 
glione.  But  what  immediately  caught  my  eye  with 
interest  was  a  tall,  two-storied,  unfinished  structure 
at  the  south  end  of  the  piazza,  only  two  windows  in 
width,  but  of  exceeding  grace  and  power  combined; 
it  was  the  celebrated  Palazzo  del  Conte  Porto  al  Cas- 
tello, once  called  by  the  people  the  Ca'  del  Diavolo, 
and  which,  so  many  authorities  allege,  would  if  finished 
have  been  Palladio's  most  handsome  private  palace. 
It  was  not  completed,  as  Zanella  puts  it,  because 
"l'animo  dei  nostri  nobili  era  maggiore  delle  rendite."1 

By  this  noble  fragment  the  visitor  is  introduced  at 
his  first  step  to  Palladio's  principal  method  of  con- 
struction, —  the  running  of  pilasters  or  half-columns 
the  height  of  the  upper  stories,  surmounted  by  a  heavy 
frieze  and  cornice.  Here  they  are  Corinthian  half- 
columns,  standing  upon  very  massive  pedestals  which 
occupy  the  whole  of  the  spaces  between  the  simple 

1  Giacomo  Zanella,  Vita  di  Andrea  Palladia. 


VICEXZA  THE  PALATIAL  111 

basement  windows;  while  the  single  upper  story  is 
loftier  than  two  of  usual  size,  and  its  windows  between 
the  columns  are  adorned  with  pediments  and  heavy 
balconies.  There  is  no  other  ornamentation,  except 
the  relieved  garlands  of  the  frieze;  yet  it  is  handsomer 
than  anv  mass  of  decoration  could  be. 

On  the  leftside  of  the  piazza  stands  a  statue  of  Gari- 
baldi (they  all  look  about  alike,  these  statues  of  the 
Liberator),  and  next  it  on  the  northeast,  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  Corso,  a  palace  of  Vincenzo  Scamozzi's, 
—  the  Palazzo  Bonin.  It  is  a  good  example  of  his 
powers:  an  open  Doric  colonnade  on  the  first  story, 
without  arches,  Ionic  half-columns  on  the  second  story, 
separating  windows  like  those  of  the  Ca'  del  Diavolo, 
and  surmounted  by  a  continuous  heavy  cornice,  —  and 
a  short  third  story,  of  Corinthian  pilasters  between 
simple  squared  windows.  Like  Palladio,  Scamozzi 
used  columns,  and  heavily  pedimented  windows,  for 
most  of  his  effects  of  grace  or  power.1  —  But  next 
to  this  building,  on  the  left,  was  my  destination,  the 
principal  inn  existing  to-day  in  Viccnza,  located  in 
an  old  palace  behind  an  attractive,  well-flowered  gar- 
den. The  former  "Hotel  de  la  Ville,"  once  so  praised 
by  travelers,  has  disappeared;  but  I  found  this  Al- 
bcrgo  Roma  excellent  for  a  small  place.  Its  stately 
old  rooms  and  halls  made  me  feel  like  a  visitor  to 
some  noble  house;  which  impression  was  enhanced 
when  we  sat  down  to  dine  that  evening  in  the  open, 
scented  air  of  the  garden,  with  screening  bushes  shut- 
ling  out  the  everyday  world. 

In  the  afternoon,  however,  when  the  sun  had  sunk 
a  little  toward  the  western  hills,  I  started  out  for  my 

'  Bknv  w<  II  he  rocccedcd  will  be  remembered  l>y  all  trav<l<Ts,  vrheo  they 
rail  U>  fninrl  Ms  magnificent  I'rocuratie  Nuove,  on  the  south  side  of  the 
Piazza  of  St.  .Mark. 


112  PLAIN-TOAYNS  OF  ITALY 

tour  of  first  impressions;  and  never  have  I  had  a  more 
delightful  walk,  more  full  of  enjoyable  surprises  and 
fresh  bursts  of  beauty  or  picturesqueness.  "In  a  word, 
this  sweet  Towne  lias  more  well-built  Palaces  than 
any  of  its  dimensions  in  all  Italy,  besides  a  number 
begun  and  not  yet  finished  (but  of  stately  design)."  * 
These  "contribute  in  the  whole  to  give  Vicenza  an 
appearance  of  splendour  and  beauty  not  common 
even  in  Italy."2  I  had  no  sooner  stepped  from  the 
garden  into  the  street  than  the  first  of  the  long  series 
confronted  me  upon  the  opposite  side,  —  the  Palazzo 
Loschi,  built  in  the  eighteenth  century,  nevertheless 
of  Palladian  style.  The  heavy  half-columns  along  the 
upper  stories,  the  stern  basement,  and  rich  entabla- 
ture, lent  an  air  of  grandeur  and  impressiveness  to 
the  narrow  way;  and  here  was  prominent  a  later  char- 
acteristic of  this  style,  the  row  of  projecting  human 
heads,  carved  from  stone,  with  fearful  grimaces  and 
distortions,  ornamenting  the  keystones  of  the  win- 
dow arches.  These  wrere  positively  so  grotesque  and 
varied  that  I  stood  spellbound  for  a  moment  under 
their  evil  glances,  as  if  they  carried  hypnotic  influ- 
ence. Strange  indeed  are  the  eccentric  channels  into 
which  decadent  art  will  run.3 

Awray  before  me  to  the  northeast  stretched  the 
Corso,  resplendent  with  other  palaces  at  intervals  as 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  —  an  endless  array  of  shops 
and  inviting  caffes  in  the  ground  floors,  the  narrow 
sidewralks  and  pavement  thronged  with  a  crowd  fresh 
from  their  midday  siesta.    As  I  strolled  along  I  found 

1  Evelyn,  Diary  and  Letters. 

-  Eustace,  Classical  Tour  through  Italy. 

3  In  this  palace  was  preserved  till  recently  one  of  Italy's  most  valuable 
artistic  relics,  —  which  America  can  now  pride  herself  upon  possessing, 
for  it  hangs  in  Mrs.  Gardner's  gallery  at  Boston.  This  is  Giorgione's 
famous  Christ  bearing  the  Cross. 


V1CENZA.     GARD 


,\//m  QUIRIXL 


VICENZA  THE  PALATIAL  113 

that  by  no  means  were  all  the  fine  buildings  in  Palla- 
dio's  manner;  there  were  Gothic  palaces,  with  charm- 
ing pointed  windows,  and  many  of  the  Earlier  Renais- 
sance forms,  of  the  quattrocento  and  first  half  of  the 
cinquecento.  Most  pleasant  of  all,  I  found  that  the 
entrance-hallways,  including  those  in  simple  unadorned 
facades,  almost  invariably  opened  directly  into  gar- 
dened courts;  so  that  the  eye  was  gladdened  by  a 
succession  of  engaging  vistas,  through  hallways  and 
ornamental  wickets,  of  green  masses  of  shrubbery 
and  gorgeous  flower-beds.  This  is  a  characteristic  of 
Yicenza  that  never  fails  to  impress  the  most  careless 
traveler,  and  ever  after  calls  up,  with  the  mention  of 
her  name,  visions  of  groves  and  blossoms  framed  by 
old  cortili.1 

Beyond  the  second  street  on  the  left  (still  narrower, 
and  darker,  were  these  little  side  ways)  loomed  up  the 
large  and  picturesque  Palazzo  Thiene,  and  beyond  the 
third  street  the  double  Palazzo  Braschi,  —  all  three 
splendid  Gothic  edifices  of  the  quattrocento,  built  of 
brick  once  plastered  but  now  more  or  less  bare  again, 
with  balconies  and  pointed  windows  of  stone  or 
marble  framework,  exquisite  in  design  and  delicate 
enrichment. 

Most  of  these  Gothic  arches  were  trefoil,  with  plain 
heavy  cusps,  foliage  capitals,  spiral  mouldings  at  the 
;mgles  of  the  jambs,  and  dainty  balustrades  or  bal- 
conies; many  were  also  slightly  ogive,  with  delicate 
labels,  capped  by  ornamental  balls  or  vases.  Still 
farther  on,  rose  on  the  opposite  or  south  side  the  con- 

1  Some  r.f  the  uoble  mansions,  nearer  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  ure 
bached  by  gardens  "f  wide  extent  and  noted   loveliness,  which  are  well 

worth  teeing  when  admission  can  l»v  procured.  Particularly  pleasing  are 
those  of  the  ifarchese  Salvi,  and  of  tli<'  Palazzo  Quirini,  with  t h<-ir  ordered 
profusion  >>f  groves,  wall.,,  lawns,  and  shrubberies,  embellished  everywhere 
by  marld)-  sculptures  and  fountains. 


1U  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

trasting  Palazzo  Porto,  with  one  of  Scamozzi's  monu- 
mental facades,  as  powerful  and  grandiose  in  its  ponder- 
ous columns  as  the  Gothic  structures  were  light  and 
fanciful;  and  through  its  wide  central  hall  was  visible 
a  beautiful  courtyard,  ennobled  by  fine  Doric  col- 
umns and  entablature.  Then,  beyond  the  Via  Zanella 
leading  to  the  left,  I  came  on  that  side  to  the  fairest 
Gothic  building  of  them  all,  the  famous  Palazzo  da 
Schio,  looking  as  if  the  pride  of  the  Grand  Canal  of 
Venice  had  been  bodily  transported  to  soar  magni- 
ficently above  this  narrow  way.  From  its  second  and 
third  stories,  besides  many  single  lovely  windows, 
shone  two  delightful  colonnades  of  four  ogive  arches, 
cusped  and  labeled,  with  slender  marble  shafts  crowned 
by  exuberant  capitals,  and  connected  at  their  bases  by 
balustrades;  on  each  side  of  them  opened  single 
windows  of  similar  style,  adorned  with  balconies  pro- 
jecting widely  on  elaborately  carved  consoles,  —  at 
whose  upper  corners  sat  the  quaintest  imaginable 
little  marble  figures  of  putti  and  lions,  holding  armorial 
shields. 

Close  beyond  this  again  on  the  left,  I  passed  the  dwell- 
ing of  Palladio,  having  a  simple  early  facade  with  broad 
spaces  intended  to  be  frescoed,  and  once  so  adorned, 
as  the  lingering  fragments  gave  evidence.  Finally  the 
Corso  debouched  into  the  northern  end  of  a  spacious 
piazza,  named  after  Vittorio  Emanuele  II;  and  front- 
ing it  on  the  corner  to  the  right,  I  saw  the  grand  pal- 
ace built  by  Palladio  in  1566  for  the  noble  family  of 
Chieregati,  now  devoted  to  the  municipal  collections 
of  art,  antiquities,  and  natural  history.  It  is  cer- 
tainly one  of  his  most  imposing  creations:  on  the 
ground  floor  is  an  extensive  Doric  colonnade,  without 
arches,  with  simple  Doric  frieze;  and  the  Ionic  colon- 
nade above  this  is  broken  in  the  centre  by  a  project- 


VICEXZA  THE  PALATIAL  115 

ing  pavilion  adorned  with  half-columns,  over  the  pedi- 
ments of  whose  windows  recline  sculptured  figures 
nearly  life-size;  the  whole  effect  being  monumental 
rather  than  graceful,  —  which  is  increased  by  the  row 
of  statues  upon  the  eaves.  At  the  northeast  angle  of 
the  piazza  I  saw  another  of  Palladio's  buildings,  the 
celebrated  Teatro  Olympico  which  he  constructed  on 
ancient  lines;  naught  was  visible  on  the  outside,  how- 
ever, but  a  mass  of  irregular,  unfaced  structures  sur- 
rounding a  wide,  cluttered  entrance-court;  and  a  sign 
informed  me  that  the  ingress  now  was  upon  the  back 
street.1 

Putting  off  this  visit  until  later,  I  returned  along 
the  Corso  as  I  had  come,  passing  through  the  arcades 
which  line  its  central  part,  and  not  turning  until  I  had 
almost  reached  the  hotel.  There  I  veered  to  the  south 
by  the  short  Via  Loschi,  beside  the  palace  of  that 
name,  and  came  quickly  to  a  little  piazza  overshad- 
owed on  the  east  by  a  huge  church,  whose  facade  was 
remarkably  like  that  of  S.  Antonio  at  Padua.  It  was 
the  Duomo.  Its  front  is  crossed  by  the  same  five, 
large,  recessed  Gothic  arches,  the  central  one  contain- 
ing a  simple  squared  doorway  and  the  next  two  hold- 
ing lancet  windows,  —  while  in  the  centre  of  the  flat 
gable  opens  a  broad  rose-window.  It  is  not  very  hand- 
some. I  advanced  into  the  widening  of  the  piazza  on 
the  south  side  of  the  church,  where  stands  a  recent 

1  From  that  itreel  behind  the  theatre  the  Ponte  degli  Angeli  spans  the 
Bacchiglione,  connecting  with  the  eastern  quarter  of  the  cits',  who.se  six 
thoroughfare!  radiate  fan-like  from  the  Piazza  Venti  Settembre  at  the 
bridge*!  end.  Here,  nut  far  distant,  may  be  visited  the  ("hnrch  of  S.  Pictro 

Apostolo,  with  its  statues  (if  Adam  and   Kve  l>y  .Milanese,  and  its  licauti- 

fnl  relief  i,f  Charity  over  the  portal,  executed  in  marble  by  Canova. — 
Prom  ili'-  southern  end  of  Piazza  Vittorio  Emanueie  the  Vialeof  the  same 
name  lead!   southward,   -  a  shady  embankment  dividing  the  two  rivers, 

whi«h  afford,  a  pleasant  promenade;  and  the  walk  may  he  continued  to 
tie-  marlilc  arch  of  Palladio  at   the  foot  of  Monti  I'm  li'i. 


116  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

monument  to  Victor  Emanuel,  overlooked  on  the  west 
by  the  long,  very  attractive  facade  of  the  Episcopal 
Palace.  This  pleased  me  exceedingly  by  its  noble 
simplicity:  the  basement  heavily  rusticated,  with  un- 
framed  oblong  windows,  the  upper  story  adorned  only 
with  Doric  half-columns,  between  balconied  windows 
which  were  framed  by  Ionic  pilasters  upholding  pedi- 
ments. Yet  it  was  constructed  as  late  as  1819.  The 
building  itself,  however,  is  fully  four  centuries  old;  as 
is  proved  by  the  charming  court-facade,  or  arcade 
(to  the  right  within),  which  was  erected  by  Fromen- 
tone  in  1494.  It  is  a  little  masterpiece,  worthy  of  the 
fame  of  him  who  designed  the  glorious  Municipio  of 
Brescia;  and  by  the  Vicentines  is  often  proudly  called, 
after  its  author,  the  Loggia  di  Fromentone. 

I  entered  the  Duomo,  to  find  myself  in  a  long,  low, 
Gothic-arched  nave,  with  no  aisles,  but  chapels  open- 
ing directly  from  each  side;  and  saw  at  the  end  a 
highly  elevated  choir  of  Renaissance  lines,  with  a 
dome  just  before  it.  Little  light  came  through  the 
narrow  windows  to  relieve  the  dusk,  which  was  al- 
ready somewhat  peopled  with  persons  at  their  after- 
noon devotions.  Making  the  round  of  the  chapels,  I 
discovered  but  three  interesting  works  of  art,  —  a 
canvas  of  Madonna  and  Saints  by  Montagna,  fourth 
on  the  left,  a  Death  of  the  Virgin  by  Lorenzo  Ve- 
neziano,  fifth  on  the  right,  and  the  elaborate  monu- 
ment of  Bishop  Girolamo  Schio,  executed  by  Palla- 
dio's  disciples,  Girolamo  Pironi  and  Maestro  Giovanni. 
The  Montagna  was  unfortunately  greatly  faded,  but 
I  could  see  that  the  colors  must  once  have  been  rich 
and  harmonious;  the  saintly  figures  were  still  grace- 
ful and  pleasing,  though  a  little  disappointing  in  their 
want  of  feeling  and  expression. 

There  was  still  time  enough  before  dinner  to  visit 


VICENZA  THE  PALATIAL  117 

Vicenza's  great  monument,  Palladio's  capo  di  lavoro; 
and  I  turned  my  steps  eastward  with  a  heart  beating 
somewhat  faster  than  usual,  full  at  the  same  time  of 
the  keenest  anticipations,  and  fear  lest  I  should  en- 
counter disappointment.  The  exterior  of  the  Duomo's 
apse  surprised  me  into  a  moment's  stop,  —  a  splendid 
construction  all  in  red  marble,  with  white  basement 
and  angle-strips,  and  large  lancet  windows;  there  are 
few,  if  any,  in  the  plain-towns  to  surpass  it.  A  narrow 
way,  Via  Garibaldi,  runs  from  it  eastward,  parallel 
with  Corso  Umberto,  between  very  old  houses,  little 
shops  whose  contents  bulge  upon  the  pavement,  and 
stalls  for  the  sale  of  every  sort  of  produce.  Following 
this,  and  threading  my  way  through  the  crowd  that 
trafficked  and  gossiped,  in  a  couple  of  blocks  it  ended 
suddenly  before  a  mighty  building  of  dazzling  white 
arches  that  shone  gloriously  in  the  blaze  of  the  sinking 
sun.  It  could  be  no  other  than  the  Basilica  Palladiana. 
Lowering  my  eyes,  I  turned  to  the  left,  past  a  statue 
of  Palladio,  into  the  wide  Piazza  dei  Signori  stretching 
far  to  the  east,  —  crossed  to  its  northern  side,  and 
then  faced  about  toward  the  Basilica. 

Never  shall  I  forget  the  utter  amazement  that  held 
me  motionless,  the  bewildering  sensation  of  not  be- 
lieving my  eyes,  and  the  final  rush  of  overwhelming 
feelings,  —  as  the  magnificent  glowing  spectacle  tow- 
ered before  me  in  the  golden  halo  of  sunset,  like  an 
enchanl  ment  or  a  dream  of  fairyland.  The  whole  vast 
structure  was  of  marble,1  glittering  in  the  level  sun- 
rays  like  sonic  unreal  edifice  from  hands  that  were 
more  than  mortal,  —  like  the  wondrous  palace  that 
Sprang  from  earth  at  the  touch  of  Aladdin's  lamp,  or 

1  Marble,  al  lout, tool!  intents  and  appearances; though  ai  a  fad  it  is 
a  calcareoni  carbonate  <>f  extraordinary  burdncm,  called,  after  the  place  of 
its  quarrying,  the  pietradi  Piovene, 


US  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

thai  which  the  gods  raised  for  Cadmus  while  he  slept. 
The  long  rows  of  superb  arches,  one  above  the  other, 
resting  fairylike  on  beautiful  columns  free  of  walls, 
seemed  to  mount  into  the  air  without  sustenance  or 
weight,  bearing  against  the  blue  the  forms  of  heroes 
turned  to  stone  by  the  Medusa's  head.  It  was  a  lace- 
work  of  marble  held  aloft  by  unseen  power,  through 
whose  pattern  ran  curves  of  ethereal  grace,  inter- 
threaded  with  countless  pillars  of  elegance  and  maj- 
esty. No  words  could  portray  this  sublime  creation 
from  the  brain  of  man,  no  photograph  reveal  its  daz- 
zling beauty  in  the  sunset  glow.  Yet  here  it  slept 
in  this  little  town,  like  the  palace  of  the  Sleeping 
Beauty,  unknown  and  unnoticed  by  the  hordes  of 
travelers  wTho  pass  within  a  mile  of  it  on  the  speeding 
cars,  year  after  year. 

It  was  hard  to  realize  that  within  that  marble 
splendor  stood  an  aged,  brick,  Gothic  edifice  of  medi- 
eval times;  yet  so  it  was,  and  a  closer  inspection  could 
just  discern  in  the  shadows  of  the  deep  arcades  some 
of  the  pointed  arches  of  the  original  Broletto.  The 
latter  was  not  a  handsome  building,  and  it  was  by 
order  of  the  Signoria  that  Palladio  in  1549  began  the 
construction  of  this  classic  covering,  —  therefore  one 
of  his  earliest  works,  although  not  completed  until 
nearly  seventy  years  later.1    The  lower  of  the  two 

1  The  work  of  erection  was  supervised  by  Palladio  himself  for  thirty 
years,  up  to  his  death  in  1580;  but  it  was  not  fully  completed  until  1614. 
He  was  aided,  from  time  to  time,  by  many  of  his  pupils  and  followers. 
Praise,  for  instance,  is  especially  due  to  the  very  talented  Girolamo  Pironi 
(author  of  the  exquisite  pilaster  fronting  the  Cappella  del  Santo  at  Padua) 
for  the  many  sculptures  which  embellish  the  free  spaces  of  the  lower 
arcade.  Palladio's,  however,  was  the  guiding  mind;  and  to  him  was  given 
all  praise  by  the  commission  to  examine  the  artistic  and  historical  monu- 
ments of  Venetia,  which  was  appointed  by  the  Archduke  Ferdinand  Maxi- 
milian, Governor-General,  in  1859.  "This  building"  —  they  reported  — 
"is  without  doubt  the  capolavoro  of  Palladio,  and  that  in  which  he  best 


TICENZA  THE  PALATIAL  119 

arcades  is  of  course  Doric,  and  the  upper  Ionic;  the 
arches  in  each  case  spring  from  coupled,  detached 
columns,  one  behind  the  other,  and  are  separated  by 
piers  adorned  with  long  half-columns  reaching  from 
base  to  cornice.  There  is  no  other  ornamentation, 
beyond  the  balustrades  of  the  second  story  and  the 
roof,  and  the  statues  surmounting  the  latter;  the 
beauty  of  this  wonderful  edifice  comes  purely  from 
its  harmony  of  parts  and  lines, — the  greatest  exem- 
plar that  I  know  of  the  truth  that  true  loveliness  lies 
not  in  adornment.  Over  the  arcades  soars  from 
within  a  tall  third  story  of  contrasting  heavy  wall- 
spaces,  topped  by  a  huge,  curving,  tinned  roof  like 
that  of  the  Salone  at  Padua;  and  these,  I  realized 
now,  were  of  the  primal  building. 

My  eyes  wandered  from  the  lofty  arch  of  the  roof 
to  the  still  loftier  tower  that  dominates  the  whole 
construction  at  its  northeast  angle,  soaring  into  the 
clouds  like  the  Mangia  of  Siena;  square  in  shape,  of 
unstuccoed  brick,  endowed  with  a  slim  elegance  and 
lightness,  it  projects  almost  its  whole  width  into  the 
piazza  at  the  eastern  end  of  the  fagade,  and,  far  aloft, 
above  a  graceful  belfry  with  double  arches  of  white 
marble  on  each  side,  alters  to  an  octagonal  cylinder  of 
three  divisions,  capped  by  a  Byzantine-looking  dome 
and  columned  lantern.  This  last  is  two  hundred  and 
sixty-five  feet  above  the  pavement.  I  walked  to  its 
foot,  and  observed  there  a  large  marble  tablet  in  a 
classic  frame  of  pilasters  and  entablature,  bearing 
many  names  in  rows:  they  were  the  Vicentines  who 
had  given  their  lives  for  their  country  in  the  Risorgi- 
mento;  —  and  to  my  mind,  as  I  looked,  returned  the 

demonstrated  hu  knowledge  <>f  the  application  of  the  rules  of  ancient 
Soman  architecture.  Tin-  design  is  noble,  simple,  grandiose,  harmonious." 
Sec  Monumenti  Artutici  t  Sioriri  delie  Prorincie  VeneU. 


120  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

picture  of  that  terrible  struggle  of  1848  upon  Monte 
Beriei,  when  its  slopes  ran  red  with  their  valiant  blood. 
Some  twenty  feet  above  this  was  a  handsome  Renais- 
sance archway  relieved  in  marble,  containing  the 
sculptured  figures  of  the  Madonna,  Child,  and  two 
Saints,  —  an  engaging  group,  graceful  and  well  exe- 
cuted. As  far  again  above  this  stood  the  old  Venetian 
Lion,  of  whitest  marble  and  proudest  mien,  reminding 
me  in  an  instant  of  what  I  had  for  the  moment  for- 
gotten, —  that  to  the  beneficence  of  the  Republic's 
rule  were  due  this  great  Basilica,  and  most  of  the 
splendors  of  the  city. 

Beyond  the  tower,  still  fronting  on  the  piazza, 
extends  the  addition  to  the  Basilica,  also  built  by 
Palladio,  which  is  devoted  to  the  courts,  and  called 
therefore  the  Tribunale,  —  an  edifice  of  entirely  dif- 
ferent style,  having  five  stories  of  heavy  stone  walls 
pierced  by  regular  and  simple  windows;  while  oppo- 
site this,  equidistant  at  the  eastern  end  of  the  piazza, 
rise  the  two  Venetian  columns,  nobly  proportioned, 
of  shining  marble,  topped  by  the  memorable  figures 
of  the  Lion  and  the  Saint.  They  looked  so  new  to  me 
as  to  suggest  reproduction;  but  even  at  that  it  is  ever 
touching,  —  this  undying  allegiance  to  the  Mistress 
of  the  Sea,  long  after  her  sun  of  glory  has  sunk  be- 
neath the  horizon. 

I  now  faced  about  westward,  and  found  new  beau- 
ties irradiated  by  the  sunset  glow  on  the  piazza's 
northern  flank:  chief  of  these,  and  very  exceptional, 
the  long  facade  of  the  Monte  di  Pieta  in  the  centre, 
glittering  like  a  kaleidoscope  from  the  vivid  colors  of 
new  frescoes  laid  over  all  its  wall-spaces  from  top  to 
bottom.  These  were  recently  finished  reproductions 
of  the  original  paintings,  that  had  utterly  faded  out 
in  the  rains  and  sun  of  several  centuries.    The  build- 


\  n  l.\/.A.     BAPTISM   OF   CHRIST,   IN  THE  CHI  K<  II   OF  S.   CORONA, 

(GIO\  \nm    BELL1X1  I 


VICENZA  THE  PALATIAL  121 

ing  itself  was  plain,  but  the  mass  of  gorgeous  tableaux, 
designs,  and  crowning  frieze  made  it  radiant  as  a 
tropical  flower;  and  closer  inspection  of  the  Biblical 
scenes  depicted,  revealed  a  pleasing  excellence  of  com- 
position and  action,  at  once  decorative  and  dramatic. 

To  the  west  of  this  palace,  across  a  narrow  side 
street,  the  three-storied  Palazzo  del  Capitanio  glis- 
tened in  its  heavy  arches  and  wealth  of  ornament. 
Cubical  in  shape,  its  fagade  separated  into  three  di- 
visions by  ponderous  Corinthian  half-columns  of  brick 
reaching  from  pavement  to  cornice,  its  three  arches  of 
the  ground  floor  opening  into  a  deep,  shadowy  loggia, 
—  it  is  a  strange  building,  almost  purely  a  monument, 
erected  by  Palladio  in  1571.  The  large  windows  over 
the  arcade  are  adorned  with  massive  balconies,  and 
every  foot  of  wall-space  is  covered  with  terra-cotta 
worked  into  figures  and  designs.  This  last  character- 
istic is  still  more  prominent  on  the  side  towards  the 
street,  which  is  adorned  with  half  a  dozen  statues  and 
decorated  from  top  to  bottom  with  still  more  cotta 
reliefs,  of  every  sort,  —  human  figures,  masks,  mus- 
ical instruments,  scrolls,  etc.  The  structure  has  there- 
fore a  special  interest,  in  being  almost  the  only  repre- 
sentative in  Padua  of  the  Renaissance  method  of 
terra-cotta  decoration,  which  rose  to  such  noble  heights 
in  the  hands  of  the  artists  of  Cremona  and  Milan.  It 
evidently  arrived  here  too  late.  —  Of  the  statues  on 
the  street  side,  two,  representing  Peace  and  Victory, 
commemorate  the  Venetian  victory  of  Lcpanto  over 
the  Turks.  Above  the  loggia  stretches  a  single  broad 
hall,  used  for  meetings  of  the  Signoria  and  other  city 
bodies,  which  was  adorned  with  ceiling-paintings  by 
Fasolo,  now  removed  to  the  Pinacoteca. 

Another  edifice  that  now  attracted  my  attention 
rose  from  the  very  centre  of  the  painted  Monte  di 


128  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Pieta,  as  different  from  the  colored  walls  on  each  side  as 
day  is  from  night;  this  was  another  white  marble  fa- 
cade, of  most  exquisite,  dainty,  Renaissance  lines,  which 
caught  on  the  rebound  and  flashed  to  my  eyes,  as  I 
stood  there  watching,  the  last,  roseate,  sunset  gleams 
from  the  Basilica.  It  consisted  only  of  two  delicate 
arcades,  of  three  arches  each,  crowned  by  a  baroque 
pediment  adorned  with  a  charming  relief  and  five 
statues.  Four  Corinthian  half-columns  embellished 
each  story,  at  the  sides  and  between  the  arches;  and 
in  all  the  spandrils  of  the  latter  were  reclining  sculp- 
tured figures,  women  below  and  lovely  putti  above. 
One  could  hardly  realize  that  this  very  classic  edifice  was 
a  church,  —  the  Church  of  S.  Vincenzo,  —  for  nothing 
more  removed  from  religious  ideals  could  be  imagined ; 
yet  so  it  went  in  those  extraordinary  cinquecento  days, 
when  the  whole  populace  was  breathing  the  very  air  of 
antiquity,  when  priests  and  cardinals  were  connois- 
seurs in  Greek  mythology,  and  the  very  duomos  were 
penetrated  by  goddesses  disguised  as  saints. 

Through  the  middle  of  the  Basilica  runs  a  public 
passage  from  north  to  south,  occupied,  as  well  as  the 
arcades,  by  the  stalls  of  vendors  of  provisions;  the 
upper  floor  was  designed  as  the  customary  great  hall, 
for  the'  meetings  of  the  large  Communal  Council,  and 
the  ground  floor  to  serve  as  a  covered  market,  — 
showing  how  little  they  then  thought  of  the  sights 
and  smells  which  disgust  us  to-day.1  As  I  strolled 
through  the  passage  at  this  evening  hour,  however, 
the  stalls  were  all  closed  and  boarded  and  their  keep- 
ers gone.  On  the  south  side  I  found  myself  elevated  a 
full  story  above  the  ground,  which  there  is  open  as  a 
small  piazza  in  the  shadows  of  tall  old  houses,  and,  to 

1  The  hall  can  still  be  seen,  on  application  to  the  proper  authority,  but 
aside  from  its  size  has  little  of  interest  to  repay  the  trouble. 


VICENZA  THE  PALATIAL  123 

judge  by  the  odor  emanating  from  its  deserted  booths, 
is  used  as  a  fish  market.  A  wide  stairway  descends  from 
the  arcade  to  this  Piazza  delle  Erbe,  and  at  its  eastern 
side  a  bridge  leaps  from  the  palace  to  a  picturesque, 
medieval  brick  tower,  grim  with  heavily  barred  win- 
dows and  battlements,  evidently  still  occupied  as  a 
prison ;  the  bridge  itself  is  beautified  by  a  lovely,  triple, 
Renaissance  window,  that  seems  curiously  out  of 
place  in  such  surroundings. 

Map  in  hand,  I  strolled  down  the  piazza  and  took 
the  first  turning  westward,  somewhat  beyond,  to  find 
myself  in  a  very  narrow,  dark  way  sloping  gently  up- 
hill, labeled  the  Contrada  Proti.  (It  is  a  peculiarity 
of  Yicenza  that  most  of  her  streets  are  called  Contrada, 
instead  of  Via.)  Quickly  here  upon  the  left  appeared 
the  object  of  which  I  was  in  search,  —  the  very  re- 
markable, so-called  Casa  Pigafetti.  Its  marble  facade 
rose  before  me,  narrow  and  three-storied,  —  one  of 
the  strangest  and  most  elaborate  that  I  had  ever 
encountered:  a  round-arched  doorway,  and  a  little, 
square,  strongly  barred  window  on  each  side  of  it, 
pierced  the  basement  wall,  which  was  faced  to  half  its 
height  with  arabesque  reliefs,  amongst  them  being  the 
motto,  "II  n'y  est  rose  sans  espine";  slender  spiral  col- 
umns with  foliage  caps  stood  at  the  jambs  of  the  door- 
way, other  spiral  columns  at  the  corners  of  the  build- 
ing, running  its  whole  height,  and  others  again  at  the 
angles  of  the  three  Gothic  windows  of  the  second 
story;  three  balconies  upheld  the  window-ledges  of 
the  third  Btory,  trefoil  in  shape,  the  left-hand  one  upon 
consoles  composed  of  griffins;  and  this  third  story  was 
most  ornate  of  all,  —  its  Gothic  windows  being  decor- 
ated at  the  angles  with  columns  of  vases  placed  one 
upon  another,  the  topmost  richly  flowering, —  its 
panels  CUl  with  elaborate  designs,  and  griffins  in  high- 


124  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

relief  bearing  escutcheons,  —  while  its  cornice,  in  weird 
contrast,  was  in  curious,  broken,  Renaissance  lines. 
This  puzzling  medley  of  unconventional  and  wanton 
ideas  was  erected  about  1480  for  Antonio  Pigafetti, 
the  sea-captain,  but  by  what  designer  no  one  knows. 
I  speculated  vainly  about  it  as  I  walked  back  to  the 
hotel  in  the  falling  dusk,  delighted  with  my  memorable 
ramble,  —  eager,  with  that  appetite  which  none  but 
a  traveler  knows,  for  the  dinner  spread  upon  tempt- 
ing white  tables,  under  colored  lantern  lights,  in  the 
greenery  of  the  garden. 

Next  morning  I  was  out  betimes,  on  my  way  to 
Vicenza's  two  churches  which  are  renowned  for  their 
paintings.  Both  are  in  the  section  north  of  Corso 
Umberto,  toward  its  eastern  end;  and  I  came  first  to 
S.  Stefano,  by  turning  a  short  way  up  the  Contrada 
Zanella,  which  it  fronts  upon  the  east.  The  building 
itself  is  unimportant,  its  facade  being  of  an  ordinary, 
modern,  Renaissance  design;  but  from  its  altar  in  the 
left  transept  shines  one  of  the  most  glorious  canvases 
of  Palma  Vecchio,  —  his  celebrated  St.  George,  with 
the  Madonna  and  Santa  Lucia.  The  Madonna  sits 
high  in  the  middle,  holding  the  sacred  Child  erect 
upon  her  left  knee,  with  a  lovely  little  girl-angel  play- 
ing a  guitar  at  her  feet  and  dreamily  singing;  in  the 
rear  is  an  attractive  landscape  of  hills  and  groves, 
domed  by  a  sky  of  Italian  blueness,  with  cumulus 
white  clouds;  but  chief  of  all  is  the  grand  figure  of 
St.  George  upon  the  left,  clad  cap-a-pie  in  glistening 
Milanese  armor,  and  holding  a  staff  flying  his  stand- 
ard. His  noble,  heroic  countenance,  with  flowing 
hair,  his  steadfast  gaze,  his  whole  attitude  and  ex- 
pression, radiate  manliness  and  spirituality  combined, 
—  a  superb  accomplishment. 

In  pleasing  contrast  to  his  martial  sternness  are  the 


YICENZA  THE  PALATIAL  125 

sweet  gentleness  of  the  Virgin's  face,  the  soft  curves 
of  St.  Lucia's  figure,  the  lustrous  fairness  of  the  Babe, 
and  the  deep  resplendence  of  golden  tone  and  richest 
colors.  By  such  surroundings  the  knightly  form  is  set 
forth  and  emphasized,  with  the  sunlight  glittering 
softly  from  his  burnished  corselet,  greaves,  and 
brassarts;  never  have  I  seen  elsewhere  so  powerful,  so 
realistic,  and  yet  so  ideal  a  St.  George,  —  not  even  in 
Carpaccio's  of  the  Schiavoni,  nor  Mantegna's  of  the 
Accademia.  In  nearly  every  respect  that  one  can 
think  of,  this  is  a  perfect  pietistic  painting;  if  there 
be  a  noticeable  want,  it  is  only  in  the  blankness  of  the 
Madonna's  face,  which,  with  downcast  eyes,  is  rather 
vacant  of  expression;  but  who  can  dwell  upon  this, 
before  the  inspired  grandeur  of  the  Knight's. 

I  looked  also  for  an  instant  at  a  poor  specimen  of 
Tintoretto,  representing  St.  Paul,  in  the  first  chapel 
on  the  left;  then  went  on  to  the  Church  of  S.  Corona, 
which  lies  a  block  farther  to  the  east,  just  off  the 
Corso,  —  a  Dominican  edifice,  built  in  the  last  years 
of  the  thirteenth  century,  with  a  Gothic  red-brick 
facade  looking  not  a  tenth  of  that  age.1  But  its  com- 
monplace dusky  interior  revealed  to  me  treasure  after 
treasure:  two  quaint  frescoes  by  Speranza,  —  a 
Madonna  on  the  entrance  wall,  and  a  group  of  angels 
beside  the  second  altar  to  the  left;  another  quattrocentist 
Madonna  and  Saints,  fourth  to  the  left,  by  unknown 
hands,  accompanied  by  "a  number  of  Fogolino's 
puffy  angels"  a  (15S0);  an  Adoration  of  the  Magi  by 
Paolo  Veronese,  third  to  the  right,  having  a  graceful 
Madonna  and  Child, and  still  showing  its  original  gor- 

1  In  tliis  churcb  Palladio  was  originally  l>n ri«-<  1 :  hut  his  l><>dy  was  later 
removed  t<>  the  general  cemetery,  whore  it  liea  under  a  monument  sculp- 
tural by  tli'-  talented  De  Fabrii. 

2  Crowe  and  (  avakasallc. 


126  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

geous  coloring,  —  but  an  excellent  example  of  Paolo's 
method  of  taking  richly  gowned  Venetian  patricians, 
posing  them  in  attitudes,  and  labeling  the  result  a 
scriptural  event;  a  very  good  Leandro  Bassano,  repre- 
senting S.  Antonio  giving  alms,  third  to  the  left,  with 
his  usual,  dark,  luminous  atmosphere,  and  fine  tactile 
values  and  execution;  the  splendid,  gilt,  Gothic  tombs 
of  the  Thiene  family,  in  the  chapel  to  the  right  of  the 
choir;  and  a  superb  example  of  Montagna,  in  a  beauti- 
ful Renaissance  frame,  on  the  second  altar  to  the  left. 
This  last  was  a  group  of  five  saints,  the  Magdalen  in 
the  centre,  of  an  Umbrian,  golden  softness  and  repose, 
their  flesh  malleable  yet  strongly  moulded,  full  of 
grace  in  composition  and  attitude.  Here  I  saw  Mon- 
tagna's  powers,  —  his  rich  tone,  harmonious  coloring, 
symmetry  of  forms,  clear-cut  execution,  and  above  all, 
restfulness.  Such  a  feeling  of  dreamy,  sweet  peace 
came  over  me  as  I  gazed,  that  I  would  have  liked  to 
live  on  with  those  happy  saints  in  their  angelic  region. 
Last  and  chief  of  all,  however,  came  the  famous 
Baptism  of  Christ  by  Giovanni  Bellini,  on  the  fifth 
altar  to  the  left,  —  one  of  that  great  master's  few  large 
canvases,  and  one  of  his  few  most  perfect  works. 
Books  have  been  written  upon  this  masterpiece,  but 
its  wondrous  charm  cannot  be  conveyed.  The  Saviour 
stands  in  the  centre,  with  gentle,  radiant  countenance 
and  hands  folded  upon  his  breast,  nude  but  for  a  loin- 
cloth, his  feet  upon  the  pebbles  of  the  brook;  the  Bap- 
tist stands  upon  the  bank  to  the  right,  considerably 
higher,  leaning  with  outstretched  arm  to  pour  the  cup 
of  water  upon  the  sacred  head;  three  angels  of  heav- 
enly loveliness  watch  from  the  left  bank,  one  kneel- 
ing and  two  standing;  in  the  rear  is  a  remarkable  land- 
scape, both  fair  and  picturesque,  —  a  vale  bounded  by 
swelling  mountains  on  whose  flanks  perch  towered 


VICENZA  THE   PALATIAL  127 

castles;  and  at  the  apex  of  the  azure  dome  of  sky 
appears  the  half-figure  of  the  Almighty,  surrounded 
by  winged  patti-heads,  with  His  hands  spread  out  in 
blessing,  and  the  Dove  of  the  Holy  Ghost  speeding 
earthward.  Over  all  is  a  tone  of  infinite  richness  and 
warmth,  shimmering  with  hidden  golden  light,  into 
which  blend  softly  the  brown  and  blue  tints  of  the 
lofty  hills;  the  upper  sky  is  gilded  by  the  sun  already 
set,  with  floating,  fleecy  cloudlets;  but  lower  down  it 
is  of  fathomless  blue.  Beautiful  as  are  these  access- 
ories, and  the  forms  and  faces  of  the  heavenly  watch- 
ers, so  excellent  is  the  composition  that  the  eye  is  ever 
led  back  and  focussed  on  the  Christ.  There  at  last 
are  a  countenance  and  figure,  executed  since  Giotto's 
time,  that  rise  very  near  to  our  lofty  ideals  of  the 
Perfect  Man:  a  wonderful  combination  of  manly 
strength  and  exquisite  grace,  powerful  yet  delicate, 
with  a  lustre  more  than  mortal  radiating  from  within; 
a  face  of  celestial  beauty  that  yet  is  virile,  stamped 
indefinably  with  his  sorrows,  thoughtfulness,  and  love. 
"What  a  profound  emotion  shines  forth  from  his  eyes, 
from  the  tense  dark  figure  of  St.  John,  from  the 
trembling  suspense  of  the  angelic  witnesses,  from 
the  awful  majesty  of  the  Father!  Surely  this  is  one 
of  the  very  grandest  works,  not  of  Italy  alone,  but  of 
all  the  world. 

Leaving  the  church,  I  proceeded  to  the  end  of  the 
Corso  and  the  building  of  the  Teatro  Olympico  of 
Palladio,  then  circled  round  to  the  street  in  rear  of  it, 
and  found  a  door  where  I  could  obtain  entrance.  The 
female  portiere  led  me  through  several  disused  corri- 
dors ;iikI  rooms,  until  we  emerged  suddenly  upon  the 
end  of  the  stage.    Yieeuza's  famous  relic  of  the  classic 

revival  lay  before  me,  —  a  genuine  reproduction  in 
stucco  of  a  theatre  of  the  ancients.  Behind  a  slightly 


128  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

sunken,  semicircular  pit  for  the  chorus,  rose  the  seats 
in  thirteen  tiers,  topped  by  an  ornamental  screen  of 
Corinthian  columns  supporting  abalustradcd  entabla- 
ture, with  statues  in  niches  between  the  columns,  and 
surmounting  the  balustrade.  The  stage,  with  no  foot- 
lights, was  backed  at  a  short  distance  by  a  most 
sumptuous  classical  facade,  three  stories  in  height, 
which  bent  forward  at  right  angles  at  the  ends;  in  its 
centre  a  high  arch  afforded  a  deceptive  vista  of  an  an- 
cient city  street,  lined  by  palaces,  leading  straightaway 
to  a  distant  city  gate;  and  smaller  squared  doorways  at 
the  sides  gave  similar  vistas  running  obliquely. 

Between  and  above  these  openings  the  entire 
fagade  was  extravagantly  embellished  with  a  succes- 
sion of  niches  in  classic  frames,  holding  statues,  with 
Corinthian  columns  and  half-columns,  topped  by 
other  statues,  and  tableaux  of  reliefs  on  the  third 
story ;  —  the  whole  being  about  as  rich  as  possible  an 
assemblage  of  ancient  architectural  forms,  with  count- 
less stuccoed  figures  in  Roman  garb.  Even  the  dimin- 
utive palace  fronts  on  the  deceptive  sloping  streets 
were  overloaded  with  cracked  and  crumbling  statuary. 
But  it  is  wonderfully  preserved  for  stucco-work,  and 
one  of  the  best  resuscitations  of  the  past  to  be  found 
anywhere.  It  was  entirely  Palladio's  idea,  started  by 
him  in  1579,  though  not  inaugurated  until  after  his 
death,  when  Sophocles'  QZdipus  Tyrannus  was  pro- 
duced first,  in  1584. l  Ever  since  then  there  have  been 

1  This  is  the  oldest  of  the  classic  Renaissance  theatres,  because  that 
built  by  Alfonso  I  of  Ferrara  for  Ariosto  has  long  disappeared.  Scamozzi 
soon  followed  this  with  his  charming  court-theatre  for  Vespasiano  Gon- 
zaga  at  Sabbioneta  (1588-90),  and  G.B.  Alleotti,  another  pupil  of  Palladio, 
constructed  the  celebrated  Teatro  Farnese  at  Parma  in  1G18-28;  both  still 
exist,  although  in  ruinous  condition.  Palladio's  work,  therefore,  was  the 
prototype  of  these;  and  he  followed  closely  the  precepts  of  Vitruvius,  as 
may  be  seen,  with  a  few  private  divergences.  The  ninety-five  statues  are 
supposed  to  be  portraits  of  the  local  academicians  of  his  day,  who  furn- 


\l<l.\/..\.     PALAZZO    l»\    SCHIO,    FORMERLY    KXOWTJ   AS  THE  CASA 
\i  1:1.  \    I  IB   <   \    I)  OBO     I  UK  GOLDEN    HOI  31 


VICENZA  THE   PALATIAL  129 

and  still  are,  productions  of  the  Greek  dramas  at 
intervals,  as  well  as  other  plays;  and  it  affords  Vicenza 
a  convenient  assembly-hall  for  large  gatherings. 

The  remainder  of  that  morning,  and  the  afternoon 
also,  I  spent  in  the  Museo  Civico,  across  the  Piazza 
Vittorio  Emanuele.  Scattered  about  the  ground  floor 
and  in  the  court  of  the  palace,  I  found  fragments  of  a 
Roman  theatre  and  other  antiquities;  the  upper  floor, 
reached  by  a  stairway  to  the  left  in  the  court,  is  nearly 
all  devoted  to  the  collection  of  paintings.  Here  I  en- 
tered first  the  fine  large  hall  occupying  the  central 
pavilion,  which  must  have  been  a  splendid  salon  when 
inhabited  by  the  Chieregati  family,  for  it  was  typical 
of  Late-Renaissance  grandeur  and  formality.  Room 
number  one  opened  from  this  to  the  left  rear,  —  a  small 
chamber  toward  the  Corso, —  and  the  series  continued 
through  other  chambers  along  the  same  side,  proceed- 
ing west.  In  the  first  four  of  them  were  the  best  of  the 
large  assortment  of  pictures. 

Room  i  revealed  to  me  a  pleasing  Domenichino,  — 
the  Baptist  as  a  boy,  preaching,  half-seated  against 
a  rock,  with  a  lamb  by  his  side;  also  a  group  of  the 
Four  Ages  by  Van  Dyck, — the  woman  very  lovely, 
with  white  soft  flesh  and  speaking  eyes  and  lips,  and 
roses  in  her  hands,  —  the  sleeping  babe  very  pretty. 
Room  ii  exhibited  an  excellent  Holy  Family  with  St. 
Catherine,  by  Campagnola,  graceful  and  rich  in  tone, 
in  an  exquisite  evening  landscape,  —  and  five,  sep- 
arate, interesting  Madonnas.    One  of  these  was  by 

ished  the  funds.  A  century  ago  the  building  was  falling  to  pieces,  but  was 
repaired  in  1816  through  the  generosity  of  Conte  Orazio  Porto;  during 
which  reparations  the  present  new  roof  was  superimposed,  and  painted  in 
182s  by  Picutti.  —  The  adjoining  structure,  with  its  now  disused  halls  and 

chambers,  was  added  to  the  theatre  in    L582  by  Seamozzi's  designs;  and 

from  its  name,  the Odeon, seems  to  have  served  the  Academy  for  its  pur- 
poses of  dramatic  culture,  and  for  entertainments. 


130  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Giovanni  Bellini,  in  his  usual  method,  but  injured; 
another,  by  Titian,  also  injured,  but  still  of  exceeding 
beauty  in  form  and  color;  a  third,  by  Mocetto,  Bel- 
lini's pupil,  with  the  Child  held  erect  on  the  left  knee 
before  a  green  tapestry,  —  an  example  of  what  exquis- 
ite paintings  often  came  in  that  period  from  artists 
of  minor  rank;  a  fourth  was  labeled  Timoteo  Viti  and 
signed  "Joannes  Belinus," — doubtless  a  forgery;  for, 
though  of  attractive  moulding  and  lighting,  it  was  not 
at  all  in  Bellini's  style,  but  more  like  Raphael's  master, 
in  the  flesh  work;  while  the  fifth  (number  207)  was  by 
an  unknown  artist,  —  a  superb  creation  of  the  Venetian 
school,  of  striking  beauty  in  the  face  and  hands.  In 
Room  in  was  another  mystery,  a  portrait  of  a  young 
man  with  flowing  golden  hair  (%55>)  bearing  the  unmis- 
takable marks  of  the  manner  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci, 
and  probably  by  Luini  or  Solario  or  another  of  his 
pupils.  Here  also  I  found  to  my  delight  a  very  early 
and  lovely  work  of  Cima,  —  the  Madonna  with  Saints 
James  and  Jerome,  of  his  usual  golden  tone  and  grace- 
ful repose.  Room  iv  contained  the  Montagnas,  and 
other  chief  works  of  the  Vicentine  school:  most 
beautiful  of  all  was  that  master's  group  of  the  Ma- 
donna with  Saints  John  and  Jerome,  splendidly  com- 
posed, modeled,  and  colored,  of  fine  atmosphere  and 
perspective.  Among  other  masters  were  Jacopo  Bas- 
sano's  Madonna  with  Saints  Catherine  and  Mary 
Magdalen,  and  Girolamo  del  Toso's  Madonna  with 
Saints  Catherine  and  Apollonia;  both  engaging  ta- 
bleaux; —  but  the  Montagnas,  with  their  peculiar 
grace  and  pietistic  feeling,  their  glow  of  tone  and  rich 
coloring,  alone  repaid  me  for  my  journey. 

The  remaining  rooms  in  the  rear  contained  inferior 
paintings,  portraits,  Murano  glassware,  engravings, 
drawings,  architectural  plans  of  Palladio,  Scamozzi, 


VICENZA  THE  PALATIAL  131 

and  Calderari,  and  the  collections  of  coins  and  natural 
history.  Returning  to  the  entrance-hall,  whose  spa- 
cious walls  were  lined  with  the  better  quality  of  pic- 
tures, I  found  an  unusually  grand  specimen  of  Jacopo 
Bassano,  —  a  majestic  tableau  of  the  Rettori  of  Vi- 
cenza  kneeling  to  the  Madonna,  with  Saints  Mark  and 
Vincenzo  by  her  side;  a  large,  powerful  work,  in  his 
customary  dark  tone,  of  striking  modeling,  and  light 
and  atmospheric  effects.  Here  also  was  an  anonymous 
but  extremely  beautiful  Madonna  with  two  Saints 
(number  5)  of  splendid  fleshwork,  coloring,  and  grace, 
with  a  lovely  background  on  the  right,  of  rounded  hills 
crested  by  towered  and  battlemented  towns. 

Another  day  I  spent  in  wandering  about  the  still 
unvisited  parts  of  the  ancient  city,  particularly  those 
north  of  the  Corso  Umberto,  looking  for  interesting 
palaces  and  churches.  Commencing  where  I  had  the 
other  day,  at  Santo  Stefano,  I  found  immediately 
opposite,  in  the  same  Contrada  Zanella,  another  of 
Palladio's  unfinished  but  monumental  palaces,  —  the 
Thiene,  constructed  for  Vicenza's  long  preeminent, 
noble  family  of  that  name.1  It  has  an  extraordinary 
facade:  the  basement  of  bricks  laid  to  resemble  blocks 
of  rusticated  rough  stone,  the  great  windows  of  the 
piano  nobile  adorned  at  their  angles  with  Ionic  col- 
umns encased  in  cubic  stone  blocks  at  intervals  (a 
hideous  decadence)  and  the  whole  structure  giving 
a  ponderous  Egyptian-like  effect,  —  the  beginnings  of 
the  Rococo.  The  back  of  this  palace  is  lighter  and 
more  graceful,  because  of  earlier  construction,  its  win- 
dows being  relieved  with  simple  cotta  mouldings  and 
the  wall-spaces  colored  with  modern  frescoes. 

1  Tliis  edifice,  now  r>< •«  1 1 j . i < ■  ■  J  l>v  the  Bancs  Populare,  represents  luit  one 
quarter  of  the  original  plana  drawn  l>.\  Palladio,  —  which,  if  carried  <nit. 
would  have  given  us  one  of  the  few  must  princely  residences  "f  the  w  l"  le 

peninsula. 


132  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

The  Corso  Porti,  which  this  back  looks  upon,  has  a 
number  of  other  fine  buildings,  —  it  is  a  street  of 
palaces.  Opposite  the  Thiene  stands  the  Porto  Bar- 
barano,  also  by  Palladio,  an  example  of  his  best  work, 
imposing  with  its  heavy  string-courses  and  rows  of 
Ionie  and  Corinthian  half-columns;  and  further  to  the 
north,  on  the  left,  rise  in  perfect  contrast  a  whole 
group  of  buoyant  Gothic  structures,  beautiful  both 
in  the  ensemble  and  individually.  Colonnaded  win- 
dows of  four  ogive,  trefoil  arches,  grace  their  second 
stories,  also  single  windows  with  charming,  Gothic, 
marble  balconies;  and  through  sculptured  entrance- 
arches  one  looks  into  colonnaded  Gothic  courts  with 
delightful  staircases.  Then  comes  another  Palladian 
palace,  the  second  of  the  two  Colleoni  standing  side  by 
side,  of  which  the  first  is  Gothic;  and  so  it  continues 
through  the  quarter,  —  airy  and  massive  styles  in 
close  juxtaposition,  one  setting  off  the  other. 

In  the  northern  part  of  the  Contrada  S.  Lorenzo, 
farther  to  the  west,  I  found  the  Gothic  church  of  that 
name,  dating  from  1185,  —  a  spacious  dusky  edifice  of 
good  proportions,  adorned  with  the  tombs  of  Mon- 
tagna  and  Scamozzi;  it  fronts  on  a  little  piazza  decor- 
ated with  a'monument  to  the  poet  Giacomo  Zanella, 
who  was  a  Vicentine.  Near  the  Corso  in  this  same 
street  stands  one  of  Palladio's  finest  efforts,  the  great 
Palazzo  Valmarana.  I  ended  my  tour  at  the  extreme 
northwestern  part  of  the  town,  where  the  smaller 
Church  of  S.  Rocco  gave  me  what  I  had  been  seeking, 
a  good  example  of  Buonconsiglio;  —  for  the  one  or  two 
of  his  canvases  in  the  Museo  were  not  impressive. 
This,  however,  was  an  exquisite  pietistic  canvas,  a 
Madonna  with  four  saints,  of  blissful  repose  and  truly 
wonderful  coloring.1 

1  A  conception  of  the  true  height  of  Buonconsiglio's  undoubted  genius 


VICENZA  THE  PALATIAL  133 

On  my  last  day  at  Vicenza  I  combined  a  ramble 
over  the  southern  section  with  my  visit  to  Monti 
Berici.  After  some  wandering  I  struck  the  Basilica 
Palladiana,  and  turned  directly  southward  by  the 
street  from  the  Piazza  Erbe;  it  quickly  crossed  the  nar- 
row Retrone,  affording  me  an  excellent  view  of  the 
bridge  next  on  the  east,  the  graceful,  white  Ponte  S. 
Michele,  which  was  constructed  on  classic  lines,  with 
a  single  wide  span,  by  Palladio.  My  way,  the  Corso 
SS.  Apostoli,  continued  southward  between  three- 
storied,  stuccoed  dwellings,  past  the  large  Teatro 
Garibaldi  with  its  huge  classic  portico,  until  I  came 
to  the  enceinture-street,  formerly  just  inside  the  city 
wall,  called  Porta  S.  Giuseppe;  in  this,  just  to  the  left, 
still  stands  one  of  the  city  gates  (for  the  walls  are  de- 
molished) —  the  Porta  del  Luzzo,  its  arch  of  great 
stones  being  intact  from  Roman  days,  with  brick 
additions  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Further  to  the  left, 
inside,  I  discovered  one  of  the  most  curious  little 
houses  that  it  has  ever  been  my  lot  to  see:  of  general 
Renaissance  lines,  its  basement  was  built  of  irregular 
stones  and  broken  bricks,  with  windows  framed  by 
stucco  set  to  represent  rusticated  stone  blocks;  the 
windows  of  the  upper  story  were  framed  by  half- 
columns  of  brick  chipped  all  over  their  rounding  sur- 
faces; beside  these  were  two  niches  holding  statues, 
and  over  them  ran  a  stone  Doric  frieze  surmounted 
by  other  statues;  —  altogether  a  potpourri  of  fascinat- 
ing horror. 

Beyond  the  gate  I  followed  to  the  right  for  a  short 
WB,y  tie-  old  city  moat,  still  flowing  with  water,  and 
struck  a  road  which  took  me  southward  to  the  foot  of 

can  best  be  obtained,  strange  to  lay,  al  ili<-  little  town  <>f  Montagnana 
(q.  r.j,  f<>r  which  be  painted  three  or  four  canvases  <>f  extraordinary  size 

.Will    lie.llity. 


134  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Monti  Berici;  this  it  climbed  gently  between  rows  of 
majestic  frees  untilit  reached  the  beginning  of  the 
brick  arcade,  constructed  in  the  (juatlrocento  to  cover 
the  pious  pilgrims  ascending  on  their  knees,  and  give 
them  holy  stations  at  which  to  stop  and  pray.  From 
all  over  northern  Italy  they  came  for  generations,  — 
merely  because  some  one  in  1428  had  alleged  that  the 
Virgin  had  appeared  to  him  on  the  summit;  and  the 
Church  of  Madonna  del  Monte  had  therefore  been 
erected  over  the  spot,  with  supposed  miraculous  pow- 
ers of  healing.  Italy  has  many  such  pilgrimage  arcades, 
but  this  is  surely  one  of  the  longest.  Away  up  the 
fertile  green  slope  I  could  see  it  climbing,  climbing, 
until  it  turned  to  the  right  at  three  hundred  and  fifty 
yards  distance,  and  continued  as  far  again:  an  un- 
broken arched  corridor  with  much-worn  steps,  open 
only  on  the  left  between  the  pillars,  with  landings 
every  few  rods  adorned  by  crucifixes  and  fair  frescoes 
of  the  life  of  the  Saviour.  The  peasants  no  longer 
ascend  on  their  knees,  but  some  of  them  do  pray  at  all 
the  stations, — doubtless  sent  up  for  penances  by  their 
confessors. 

As  I  slowly  mounted,  my  thoughts  reverted  again  to 
those  bloody  days  of  1848,  when  this  same  religious 
passage  was  the  scene  of  terrible  struggles,  the  Ital- 
ians using  it  as  one  of  their  chief  defenses,  and  fighting 
with  the  bayonet  on  each  landing  in  turn,  until  the 
steps  were  choked  with  the  dead  and  dying.  —  Then 
my  eyes  were  arrested  by  another  road  ascending  the 
hill  some  way  to  the  east,  and  by  a  glittering  white 
object  at  its  foot,  which  on  closer  observation  and  in- 
quiry proved  to  be  a  beautiful  ornamental  arch  of  Re- 
naissance days,  —  the  Arco  delle  Scalette  of  Palladio, 
crowned  with  statues  and  a  Venetian  Lion.  —  At  last 
I  reached  the  summit,  after  running  the  fire  of  a  num- 


VICENZA  THE   PALATIAL  135 

ber  of  holy-relic  sellers  near  the  top,  and  saw  the 
church  rising  before  me  on  broad,  high  steps,  in  the 
shape  of  a  Greek  cross,  —  as  it  was  reconstructed  in 
1688. 

Far  below  on  the  north  lay  the  thousands  of  roofs 
of  Vicenza  in  their  warm  red  tiles,  surmounted  by 
towers  here  and  there,  packed  closely  in  the  luxuriant 
vale,  with  the  foothills  of  the  Alps  soaring  behind,  on 
the  west  and  northwest,  higher  and  ever  higher,  till 
they  became  distant  dark  peaks  against  the  sky.  Far 
away  to  the  east  spread  the  plain  of  Venetia,  an  im- 
mense, verdurous,  green  ocean,  sparkling  with  the 
white  dots  of  farmhouses  and  villages,  its  haze-shrouded 
horizon  describing  a  great  quarter-circle,  from  Bassano 
to  Padua;  and  to  the  south  extended  the  top  ridge  of 
the  Berici,  along  which  Radetsky  had  finally  advanced, 
dark  with  woods  upon  the  summit  and  upper  flanks, 
from  whose  umbrageous  depths  peeped  glistening 
villa-towers  and  grim,  castellated  keeps. 

Within  the  church  I  found  one  of  those  overdecked, 
overgilded,  Late-Renaissance  interiors,  with  fine  col- 
umns hidden  by  gaudy  cloths  with  gilt  fringe,  and 
altars  adorned  by  tinseled,  crowned  Madonnas;  but 
one  altar,  to  the  right  of  the  choir,  held  a  genuine 
treasure,  a  masterpiece  of  Montagna,  representing  the 
Pieta.  The  body  of  the  Christ  was  of  most  realistic 
moulding,  and  very  clearly  dead,  though  not  at  all 
spiritual  in  aspect;  the  Madonna's  attitude  and  grief 
wen-  moving,  as  were  St.  Joseph's,  who,  wringing  his 
hands  at  the  left  in  agony,  apparently  feels  that  he 
cannot  approach  closer  to  that  holy  intimacy  of  Mother 
and  Son. 

In  a  room  back  of  the  choir  on  the  floor  below  I  saw 
another  good  painting,  the  celebrated  Banquet  of 
Paolo  Veronese  which  was  cut  to  pieces  by  the  Aus- 


13G  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

trial)  troopers  in  1848;  it  has  been  admirably  pieced 
together,  and  shows  a  typical,  huge,  Veronese  dining- 
scene,  with  all  its  accessories  of  colonnades,  stairways, 
marbles,  richest  vestments,  fine  plate,  Venetian  patri- 
cians, climbing  urchins,  and  varied  animals.  Near  this 
room  was  a  charming  little  Gothic  cloister,  with  a 
handsome  Renaissance  well-top.  Behind  the  church 
on  the  east  were  two  monuments  to  those  who  died 
fighting  on  this  spot  in  1848,  one  of  them  a  statue 
dedicated  by  Vicenza  to  "The  Genius  of  the  Insur- 
rection." 

On  descending  the  arcade,  at  the  turning-point  half- 
way down  I  bore  to  the  east  along  a  lower  ridge,  whose 
gradual  slope  to  the  southeast  conducted  me  past  some 
fine  villas,  to  the  famous  residence  known  as  the  "Ro- 
tonda,"  built  by  Palladio  for  the  Marchese  Capra.  It 
is  one  of  the  master's  most  pure  and  most  successful 
creations:  a  central  square  structure  of  two  stories, 
containing  a  circular  domed  hall,  and  adorned  on  each 
of  the  four  sides  with  a  massive,  Ionic,  six-columned 
portico,  approached  by  lofty  steps  and  crowned  with 
statues.1  Here,  upon  Radetsky's  final  assault  in  1848, 
over  three  thousand  trained  Austrian  troops  were  held 
at  bay  for  hours  by  three  hundred  young  students  of 
the  University.  What  a  spirit  blazed  in  those  brave 
hearts,  —  the  spirit  that  makes  miracles  possible; 
naught  else  could  have  accomplished  the  wonder  of 
free,  united  Italy. 

I  found  two  interesting  excursions  that  can  be  easily 

1  This  imposing  design  has  often  been  reproduced  in  English  villas,  at 
Chiswick,  Tunbridge  Wells,  and  elsewhere,  and  particularly  at  the  royal 
French  estate  of  Marly.  —  The  Villa  Valmarana,  near  the  Rotonda,  con- 
tains several  frescoes  by  G.  B.  Tiepolo,  in  his  usual  decorative  manner. 

A  fine  example  of  Montagna  may  also  be  found  in  the  environs, — 
a  beautiful  canvas  of  the  Madonna  between  Saints  John  and  Anthony,  at 
the  Church  of  S.  Giovanni  Ilarione. 


Vl(  KN/.A.      VII. I. A    KoToNDA   HY    l'ALLADK)   AND   SCAMOZZI. 


S  l<    I.N/.A.      PI    I'.I.K       Ml    8]    I    M 


VICENZA  THE  PALATIAL  137 

taken  from  Vicenza  within  a  day's  time.  The  first, 
and  more  important,  is  by  the  little  railway  to  the 
Val  d'  Asti,  which  passes  the  towns  of  Thiene  and 
Schio,  situated  where  the  foothills  slope  into  the  plain 
some  fifteen  miles  to  the  north,  —  the  birthplaces  of 
the  two  great  Vicentine  families  known  by  their  names. 
Thiene  has  one  of  the  castles  that  belonged  to  Barto- 
lomeo  Colleoni,  decorated  with  a  number  of  fine  paint- 
ings: a  series  of  frescoes  by  Paolo  Veronese,  another 
by  Battista  Zellote  of  Verona,  and  one  of  Gaudenzio 
Ferrari's  characteristic,  beautiful  angels  making  mel- 
ody. From  here  it  is  a  splendid  drive  along  the  foot- 
hills eastward  to  Bassano,  through  the  fascinating, 
picturesque  old  town  of  Marostica,  with  its  Rocca 
and  its  Renaissance  villas.1  Schio,  a  city  of  thirteen 
thousand  people,  is  of  less  account,  although  its  large 
Duomo  and  cemetery  are  worth  seeing  if  one  is  there, 
also  several  of  its  grand  houses.  The  second  trip  is 
by  the  tramway  up  the  Valdagno  to  the  northwest, 
passing  Montecchie,  with  its  huge  ruined  castles  of 
that  family  (the  Montagues  of  Shakespeare's  Verona) 
and  the  handsome  Villa  Cordellina,  decorated  with 
frescoes  by  G.  B.  Tiepolo.  From  the  town  of  Valdagno 
it  is  a  pretty  mountain-drive  to  the  celebrated  Baths 
of  Recoaro,  with  their  numerous  large  hotels. 

1  See  next  chapter,  at  the  close  of  "  Bassano." 


CHAPTER  V 

BASSANO,    CITTADELLA,   AND   CASTELFRANCO 

The  hamlets  rested  on  the  Tyrol's  brow, 
The  Asolan  and  Euganean  hills, 
The  Rhaetian  and  the  Julian,  —  sadness  fills 
Them  all,  for  Eccelin  vouchsafes  to  stay 
Among,  and  care  about  them;  day  by  day 
Choosing  this  pinnacle,  the  other  spot, 
A  castle  building  to  defend  a  cot. 

Robert  Browning's  Sordello. 

I  departed  from  Vicenza,  not  by  the  main  line  of  rail- 
road by  which  I  had  come,  but  over  the  branch  line 
extending  northeasterly  through  Cittadella  and  Castel- 
franco  to  Treviso,  parallel  with  the  bases  of  the  Alps 
and  about  ten  miles  distant  therefrom.  This  fair 
region,  one  of  the  richest  of  Venetia,  is  a  long  gradual 
slope  from  the  mountains  to  the  sea-level,  percolated 
by  countless  swift  streams  that  are  fed  by  the  melted 
snows,  and  thickly  covered  by  habitations  and  vil- 
lages. Besides  its  exceptional  fertility  —  due  to  the 
abundant  watering  and  good  drainage,  and  its  eleva- 
tion of  one  to  four  hundred  feet  above  the  marshiness 
of  the  lower  lands  —  it  has  always  been  an  important 
field  for  travellers  to  or  from  the  north,  traversed  and 
fought  over  by  invading  armies  since  the  dawn  of 
Italy.  For  into  its  smiling  meadows  debouch  two 
great  routes  from  the  Tyrol  and  German  lands:  one 
near  the  middle  of  its  Alpine  barrier,  —  the  Val  Su- 
gana,  which  is  the  defile  of  the  Brenta,  —  the  other 
at  its  eastern  end,  the  Valley  of  the  Piave,  descending 
from  the  Cadore  country  with  its  three  well-trodden 


< 

«2 


/-. 


a 


- 
3 


- 

7. 


BASSANO  139 

passes.  Just  where  the  Brenta  emerges  from  its  gap, 
sits  the  little  but  important  city  that  has  always 
guarded  for  Italy  the  Sugana  Pass,  —  Bassano;  which 
therefore  has  ever  been  an  object  of  fierce  contentions, 
and  subjected  to  as  many  external  vicissitudes  as  a 
city  of  the  first  rank. 

Bassano,  a  place  of  but  fifteen  thousand  inhabitants 
to-day  and  never  much  larger,  was  an  object  of  tender 
solicitude  to  the  rulers  of  Imperial  Rome,  and  of  rapa- 
cious desire  to  all  the  medieval  tyrants  of  northeastern 
Italy,  from  the  bloody  Ezzelino  downward.  In  general 
it  shared  the  successive  fortunes  of  its  neighbor, 
Vicenza.  After  suffering  much  from  the  cruelties  of 
Ezzelino,  —  who  was  Bassano's  hereditary  lord,  and 
had  constructed  over  the  town  one  of  his  heavy  for- 
tresses, where  he  and  his  brother  Alberico  often  re- 
sided, —  the  city  followed  Vicenza  into  the  clutches 
of  the  Delia  Carrara,  and,  after  their  defeat  by  Can 
Grande,  into  the  possession  of  the  Scaligers;  with  the 
fall  of  the  latter  it  became  the  prey  of  the  Visconti, 
was  one  of  the  many  towns  included  in  the  duchy 
with  which  the  Emperor  Wenceslaus  in  1395  invested 
Gian  Galeazzo,  and  was  left  by  the  latter  to  his  son 
Filippo  Maria.  With  Vicenza,  finally,  when  Filippo's 
mother  made  that  ominous  call  for  aid,  Bassano  and 
nil  this  region  found  happier  days  in  the  iron  grasp 
of  Venice.  As  the  Republic  neared  its  end,  nearly 
four  centuries  later,  under  the  victorious  advance  of 
Napoleon  againsl  the  Austrians,  Bassano  was  the 
scene  of  that  battle  which  proved  the  doom  of  her 
suzerain.  Wormser,  with  his  second  great  Austrian 
army,  defeated  and  driven  up  the  Adige,  had  re- 
turned into  Italy  by  the  Val  Sugana,  followed  all  the 
way    by   the  untiring    French;  JUSt  as   he  had    finally 

regained  the  open  country  at  Bassano,  Napoleon  over- 


140  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

look  and  forced  him  to  give  battle;  and  the  citizens, 
watching  the  terrible  conflict  from  their  walls,  saw  the 
French  power  emerge  supreme  over  the  shattered  and 
dispersed  Austrians.  The  fall  of  the  ancient  Republic 
became  then  only  a  matter  of  months. 

The  little  city  also  took  her  peculiar  and  secure  posi- 
t  ion  in  t  he  history  of  art,  by  giving  birth  in  the  heyday 
of  the  Renaissance  to  the  several  generations  of  the 
family  of  Da  Ponte.  The  first  of  these  famous  painters 
-usually  called  after  their  town  instead  of  by  their 
family  name  —  was  Francesco,  the  elder,  who  labored 
at  the  close  of  the  quattrocento,  and  in  the  earlier,  more 
confined,  pietistic  manner,  with  a  grace  and  pictur- 
esqueness  all  his  own.  His  son  Jacopo  was  the  greatest 
of  them  all,  bringing  to  full  development  their  charac- 
teristic dark  tone  and  hazy,  shadowy,  luminous  atmo- 
sphere. He  was  followed  by  his  three  sons,  Leandro, 
Francesco  the  younger, .and  Girolamo,  of  whom  the 
first-named  best  sustained  the  tradition,  some  of  his 
numerous  works  being  truly  of  wonderful  merit.  But 
so  distinctive  is  the  method  of  them  all,  that  they  are 
the  one  family  of  artists  whose  pictures  can  be  de- 
tected at  a  glance  by  the  veriest  tyro.  Many  and 
scattered  as  are  their  works,  and  capable  of  being  well 
studied  at  Venice,  still  their  native  city  is  the  one  place 
where  they  can  be  fully  understood  and  appreciated; 
for  there  are  far  more  of  them  here  than  in  any  other 
town,  and  they  have  been  gathered  side  by  side  in  one 
large  hall  of  the  Museo. 

The  train  that  conveyed  me  from  Vicenza  was  made 
up  of  a  half-dozen  very  old  and  worn-out  little  coaches, 
of  four  to  five  compartments  each,  upholstered  with 
very  soiled  and  frayed  cloth  on  very  hard  seats;  and 
they  swayed  and  rocked  like  a  ship  in  a  gale,  to  the 
jerks  of  a  puffy  little  engine  fit  for  the  scrap-heap,  at 


BASSANO  141 

degrees  of  inclination  sufficient  to  alarm  an  unhabitu- 
ated  foreigner.  As  we  rolled  slowly  through  the  end- 
less fields  of  corn  and  by  the  everpresent  habitations, 
always  overlooked  by  distant  campanili,  the  Alps 
accompanied  us  on  the  north,  their  noble  line  of  snow- 
clad  peaks  soaring  above  the  nearer  summits  black 
with  forests.  At  the  station  of  Cittadella  I  had  to 
change  to  another  branch  line,  running  from  Padua  to 
Bassano;  the  little  town  itself,  famous  for  its  perfect 
medieval  walls,  was  hidden  at  some  distance  by  the 
abundant  trees. 

The  second  train  was  very  like  the  first  in  composi- 
tion and  action;  and  it  was  slowly  indeed  that  we 
climbed  the  northward  slope  to  the  mountains.  I  still 
sat  upon  the  left,  and  as  my  eyes  roamed  over  the  dis- 
tant villages  to  the  west,  my  thoughts  once  more  re- 
verted to  the  monstrous  Ezzelino;  for  it  was  here,  in 
this  happy-looking  country  between  Vicenza  and  Bas- 
sano, at  a  place  called  Priola,  that  he  perpetrated  the 
most  celebrated  of  all  his  infamies,  and  perhaps  the 
most  inhuman  outrage  of  any  that  this  world  has  suf- 
fered. The  villagers,  well  knowing  what  to  expect  in 
any  event,  had  offered  what  resistance  they  could  to 
the  tyrant's  troops;  and  when  their  castle  fell,  Ezze- 
lino took  every  man,  woman,  and  child  alive  in  the 
place,  regardless  of  age  or  condition  (some  accounts 
say  two  thousand  in  number),  destroyed  their  eyes, 
cut  off  their  noses  and  legs,  and  cast  them  into  the 
fields  to  die  of  weakness  and  want.  No  wonder  the 
Pope  declared  a  crusade  against  him  as  an  infidel  and 
a  scourge  to  mankind. 

The  approaching  Alps  had  steadily  loomed  higher 
and  higher,  until  the  greater  peaks  disappeared  be- 
hind I  lie  foothills,  now  close  at  hand,  and  the  level 
slope  changed  into  long  rounded  swells.   Bassano  came 


148  TLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

in  sight  to  the  left,  behind  her  medieval  walls,  and  we 

stopped  ;ii  a  station  some  way  to  the  south  of  them.  I 
stepped  into  one  of  the  two  little  rickety  albergo  omni- 
buses in  waiting,  and  was  jolted  heavily  over  the  cob- 
blestones, through  a  picturesque  old  city  gate  with 
high  Gol  hie  arch,  down  a  narrow  street  that  led  north- 
ward to  the  centre  of  the  town.  There  I  found  three 
piazzas,  running  east  and  west,  connected  by  short 
passage's;  the  middle  one  much  larger  than  the  others, 
and  fronted  by  the  principal  church  and  caffes.  The 
inn  proved  to  be  just  off  the  western  piazza,  — an  old, 
irregular  building  behind  a  little  court,  with  a  littered 
stableyard  on  one  side;  the  ground  floor  occupied  by  the 
kitchen  and  dining-rooms,  the  bedrooms  hidden  about 
dark  winding  passages  above.  The  house  was  full  of 
guests  from  neighboring  towns,  who  made  the  cor- 
ridors reecho  with  their  continuous  shouting,  —  the 
peasants'  customary  tone  of  conversation;  and  I 
learned  that  a  bicycle-meet  was  to  occur  here  on  the 
morrow,  the  participants  riding  in  battalions  from 
their  respective  villages.  After  a  dinner  in  company 
with  various  gentlemen  who  ate  with  their  hats  on 
(according  to  the  peasant's  manner),  consumed 
alarming  cpuantities  of  meat  and  macaroni  with  the 
sole  aid  of  their  knives,  and  roared  continuously  at 
each  other  with  deafening  bellows,  I  solaced  my 
nerves  with'  some  caffe  nero  at  a  sidewalk  table  in 
the  main  piazza;  and  then  found  a  cinematograph 
exhibition,  which  gave  a  performance  of  five  numbers 
for  the  modest  sum  of  thirty  centesimi,  in  the  first 
class. 

Moving  pictures  are  now  the  one  great  amusement 
of  the  Italians.  There  is  hardly  a  town  so  small  as 
not  to  possess  at  least  one  such  show;  and  the  prices 
are   usually  twenty  centesimi  for  the  second  class, 


.,£,   * 


BASSANO  143 

thirty  or  forty  for  the  first.1  Here  the  national  love 
of  tragedy  is  prominently  manifested;  the  popular 
piece  must  have  plenty  of  blood-letting,  and  above 
all  a  harrowing  finis,  that  leaves  most  of  the  charac- 
ters upon  the  ground.  Especially  successful  this  even- 
ing was  the  story  of  Parasina;  when  it  ended  with  the 
death  of  herself  and  Ugo  upon  the  block,  a  united  sigh 
of  satisfaction  arose  from  the  excited  populace.  The 
concluding  number,  as  always,  was  supposed  to  be 
very  funny  —  " comicissima,"  —  and  consisted  of  the 
usual  chase  of  one  person  by  many  others,  at  whose 
clearly  intentional  tumbles  the  audience  roared  with 
delight. 

I  had  an  unsuccessful  night,  disturbed  until  4  or  5 
a.m.  by  a  tremendous  carousal  in  the -eating-rooms 
below,  constantly  increased  by  new  arrivals,  —  shouts 
and  songs  alternating  with  speeches,  that  invariably 
wound  up  with  the  modern  Italian  imitation  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  cheer,  —  a  languid  "Eep! —  Eep!  — 
Urrah!"  —  that  sounded  as  if  it  pained  the  deliver- 
ers; and  it  was  therefore  rather  late  in  the  morning 
when  I  again  returned  to  the  main  piazza,  to  find  that 
it  had  been  decorated  during  the  night  by  a  dozen  red 
masts  bearing  bright  streamers  and  festoons;  while  all 
around  the  walls  were  pasted  placards,  announcing  in 
large  letters  the  various  prizes  that  were  to  be  con- 
ferred,—  upon  the  best -decorated  bicycle,  the  most 
fanciful  characterization,  the  most  comical  rider,  and 
so  forth.  It  is  curious  to  notice  how  in  rural  Italy  the 
modern  fads,  customs,  and  fashions  follow  faithfully 

1  In  the  cities  there  ia  often  alio  a  third  class,  costing  ten  emterimi;  at 
whi<li  rate  children  and  private  Boldiera  arc  nearly  everywhere  admitted, 
—  the  latter  proving  the  mainstay  <>f  the  business  in  garrison-towns.  As 
a  bencher  fox  them  <>f  general  information,  it  ia  invaluable;  and  one  sees 
them,  night  after  night,  drinking  in  with  open  mouths  the  wonders  of  this 
world. 


144  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

those  of  the  northern  nations  from  five  to  ten  years 
behind;  and  so  the  bicycle  frenzy  is  now  at  the  height 
which  it  attained  with  us  a  decade  ago. 

There  is  nothing  monumental  about  this  old  market- 
place, nor  suggestive  of  the  town's  historic  past,  ex- 
cept  the  lofty,  medieval,  brick  tower  rising  above  the 
house-tops  at  the  northeast  corner,  and  the  town 
clock-tower,  on  the  north  side,  which  has  an  open 
loggia  in  its  first  floor,  supported  on  Romanesque  col- 
umns, and  a  Gothic  balustrade  across  its  top,  where 
the  town  bell  swings  in  the  open.  The  buildings, 
areaded  upon  the  east,  west,  and  north  sides,  have 
very  plain,  stuccoed,  modern-looking  facades.  All  traces 
of  the  frescoes  that  once  adorned  them  have  dis- 
appeared. The  south  side  is  dominated  by  the  huge 
Church  of  S.  Giovanni  Battista,  with  a  Late-Renais- 
sance facade,  its  central  pediment  upheld  by  four 
great  Corinthian  half-columns,  —  too  baroque  in  the 
whole  effect  to  be  imposing.  Nothing  exhibited  the 
decrepitude  of  age,  except  the  Gothic  belfry-arches 
and  battlements  of  the  brick  tower,  —  only  remnant 
of  the  former  palace  of  the  Venetian  podestas,  —  and 
a  lonely  crumbling  statue  of  some  mitred  saint,  on  a 
rococo  column  at  the  western  end. 

I  entered  the  church,  which  proved  to  be  of  curious 
shape,  its  spacious  nave  running  parallel  with  the 
facade,  the  recess  of  its  choir  opening  in  the  middle  of 
the  farther  side;  but  on  an  altar  to  left  of  the  choir 
stood  a  very  beautiful  painting  by  Girolamo  da  Ponte, 
representing  St.  Filomena,  —  a  dainty  white  figure 
full  of  exquisite  softness,  grace,  and  expressive  loveli- 
ness, elegantly  modeled  and  posed,  with  two  other 
saints  at  her  sides,  and  a  Madonna  and  Child  of  unus- 
ual beauty  overhead.  It  was  a  revelation  to  me  of  the 
full  powers  of  that  artist.    To  the  right  of  the  choir 


BASSANO  145 

was  an  excellent  canvas  of  his  father,  Jacopo,  —  S. 
Antonio  di  Padova  between  two  angels,  with  a  cherub 
below  and  others  above;  opposite  it  on  the  entrance 
wall  was  his  St.  Paul  preaching  in  the  Roman  Forum; 
both  were  finely  conceived  and  drawn,  in  his  usual, 
soft,  dark  tone  and  atmosphere.  In  the  sacristy  I 
found  an  extraordinary  thing:  a  lifesize  terra-cotta 
group  behind  glass,  representing  St.  John  baptizing 
Jesus,  attended  by  David  and  another  prophet  and 
five  angels,  —  clearly  a  Tuscan  work  of  the  beginning 
of  the  cinquecento,  and  alleged  by  the  parroco  to  be  a 
labor  of  the  rare  Giovanni  Minelli  de'  Bardi.  The 
once  rich  coloring  still  lingers  on  the  well-composed, 
expressive  figures,  which,  —  with  the  exception  of  the 
fine  Christ  and  one  or  two  of  the  angels  —  are  not 
graceful,  though  dignified  and  full  of  feeling. 

When  I  came  out,  the  piazza  was  more  closely 
thronged  than  before,  and  companies  of  cyclists  were 
already  arriving  by  the  long,  straight  way  from  the 
southern  gate,  topped  by  its  open  loggia,  —  exciting 
cheers  of  enthusiasm  by  their  patchwork  costumes, 
flags,  and  loads  of  flowers,  more  or  less  covered  by  the 
dust  of  the  roads.  "What  especially  struck  me  was 
the  number  of  accompanying  children,  likewise  fanci- 
fully arrayed  in  upholstery  and  tassels,  manfully 
working  their  little  legs  on  diminutive  machines,  and 
clearly  exhausted,  —  some  of  them  not  over  four  or 
five  years  of  age.  Not  having  further  time  to  lose,  I 
made  my  way  with  difficulty  back  to  the  lower  piazza, 
from  whose  foot  a  narrow  descending  street  led  me 
westward  to  the  river  Brenta,  and  the  picturesque  old 
wooden  l>n<l^r<-  across  its  rapid  waters. 

Here  was  nil  the  intcn^t  tor  which  I  had  looked  in 
vain  in  the  city's  cent  re;  it  was  ;i  delightful  picture, — 
the  mountains  soaring  close  on   the  north   with   vast 


L46  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

precipitous  flanks,  green  or  darkly  wooded,  the  wide 
stream  emerging  from  its  gorge  and  bounding,  splash- 
ing along  over  beds  of  shining  pebbles,  and  the  line  of 
diversified  crumbling  houses  on  the  farther  bank,  lean- 
ing over  the  ripples  with  moss-grown  walls,  decayed 
wooden  balconies,  broken  red-tiled  roofs,  and  little 
courts  shady  with  foliage;  while  over  their  roofs  rose 
the  spires  of  poplars  and  cypresses  from  adjacent 
gardens.  It  was  quite  a  suburb  of  Bassano,  on  the 
farther  shore.  That  side  was  level  ground,  stretching 
for  some  distance  to  the  Alpine  wall  on  the  west,  lux- 
uriantly dotted  with  groves  of  trees,  shining  villas, 
and  clusters  of  dark  cypresses;  while  to  the  south  it 
merged  into  the  boundless  plain,  covered  by  an  opales- 
cent haze  of  heat.1 

Not  the  least  of  the  picture  was  the  curious  bridge 
that  strode  over  the  bluish-gray  water  on  piers  of  oaken 
beams,  wooden  also  in  its  parapets,  and  the  gabled 
roof  with  its  numerous  supporting  pillars.  The  former 
stone  bridge  Was  destroyed  by  the  French  on  that 
memorable  occasion  of  1796.  Across  the  worn  plank- 
ing was  coming  a  steady  procession  of  peasantry,  afoot, 
on  mule-back,  and  in  little  two-wheeled  vehicles,  — 
packed  like  sardines,  six  in  a  box,  seated  upon  the 
floor  with  legs  dangling  over;  all  doubtless  eager  to 
behold  the  wonders  of  the  bicycle-meet.  Advancing 
upon  the  bridge  I  gazed  delightedly,  amidst  the  hub- 
bub, at  the  brightly  colored  groups  of  women  washing 

1  So  charming  is  this  landscape  that  it  quite  carried  away  the  imagina- 
tion of  Mr.  William  Beckford,  when  he  descended  through  the  Sugana 
I '  as.  "It  was  now  I  beheld,"  he  wrote,  "groves  of  olives,  and  vines  cluster- 
ing the  summits  of  the  tallest  elms;  pomegranates  in  every  garden,  and 
vasefl  <>f  i  itron  and  orange  before  almost  every  door.  —  I  felt  sensations  of 
joy  and  novelty  run  through  my  veins,  on  beholding  this  smiling  land  of 
(.roves  and  verdure."  —  W.  Rockford,  Italy,  vrith  Sketches  of  Spain  and 
Portugal. 


gp'l? 


ai 


BASSANO.    THE    RIVER    BRENTA    WITH   THE   WOODEN   BRIDGE. 


*i  «»"  * 


BASSA  ni  i     n  \//  \   \  ri  n  >RI<  i   imam  i  u. 


BASSANO  147 

on  the  bank  below,  at  the  foaming  rapids,  the  strips 
of  gleaming  sand,  and  the  mill-wheels  turning  lazily; 
then  I  caught  the  scene's  completing  note,  —  two 
grim,  dark,  medieval  towers  soaring  against  the  sky, 
upon  the  top  of  the  rising  ground  to  the  northeast, 
casting  over  the  landscape  the  spell  of  the  dread  past 
of  battle-axe  and  dungeon.  For  they  rose  from  the 
old  fortress  of  Ezzelino,  that  has  echoed  with  such 
countless  cries  of  suffering  and  sorrow. 

I  decided  to  make  my  way  to  the  castle,  and  on  re- 
turning to  the  little  piazza  at  the  bridge's  end  came 
immediately  upon  another  interesting  relic,  —  a  tall, 
aged,  stuccoed  house  standing  upon  the  elevated  north- 
ern side  of  the  area,  part- way  up  the  hill;  clearly  a 
medieval  structure,  that  once  was  covered  with  rich 
frescoes.  From  this  location  came  the  surname  of 
Bassano's  family  of  painters,  —  for  it  was  the  resid- 
ence of  the  "Da  Ponte."  There  they  all  lived,  from 
generation  to  generation,  four  hundred  years  ago,  that 
here  seemed  but  as  yesterday.  An  old  dame,  who  had 
paused  by  my  side,  assured  me  that  there  were  no  per- 
sonal relics  of  the  family  remaining  within;  so  I  pressed 
on  up  the  slope,  until  I  finally  reached,  by  a  round- 
el >out  course,  another  open  space  far  above  the  stream 
and  not  far  from  the  precincts  of  the  fortress. 

I I  ere  the  view  over  the  flat  country  to  the  west  was 
more  extensive  and  lovelier;  it  presented  the  aspect  of 
a  luxuriant  park,  massed  with  rich  copses,  glistening 
with  villas  ensconced  in  dales  and  perched  on  verdant 
knolls,  with  rows  of  poplars  Lining  hidden  roads  and 
cypresses  gathering  their  dark  points  around  ancient 
monasteries.  Inonespol  they  outlined  thesquareof 
a  lar^'e  camposanto,  the  burial-ground  of  Bassano, 
whose  white  stones  gleamed  through  the  shadowy 
groves.   Bui  theclosely  hemming  mountains  were  the 


148  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

majesty  of  tin*  scene,  soaring  behind  from  steep  foot- 
liills  to  massive  peaks;  and  far  to  the  southwest  ap- 
peared the  Monti  Berici,  across  the  intervening  vale 
that  held  the  towers  of  Vicenza. 

Turning  my  hack  at  last  upon  this  enchanting  land- 
scape, I  proceeded  toward  the  castle  of  Ezzelino,  and 
came  quickly  to  the  fortress-wall,  fronting  the  street. 
It  was  of  typical  medieval  construction,  and  well  pre- 
served, as  was  also  the  high-arched  gateway.  Within, 
however,  to  my  surprise,  I  found  nothing  older  than 
some  plastered  dwellings  and  a  large  stuccoed  church, 
which  was  the  Duomo;  but  no  better  use  could  have 
been  made  of  the  stones  which  the  despot  used  for 
cruelties.  Only  the  outer  shell  remains  from  his  con- 
structions, and  the  taller  of  the  two  towers,  whose 
grimness  is  modified  by  the  bushes  spreading  over  its 
broken  summit;  the  other,  plastered  and  adorned  with 
a  belfry,  serves  as  the  campanile  of  the  church. 

I  was  glad  to  step  out  of  the  intense  heat  of  the  sun 
into  the  latter's  cool  interior.  It  consisted  of  a  nave 
without  aisles,  and  a  choir-recess  at  the  end.  To  the 
right  and  upon  the  end  wall  were  three  mediocre 
paintings,  alleged  by  the  sacristan  to  be  products  of 
Leandro  da  Ponte;  one  of  them  was  amusing,  a  battle 
of  St.  George  and  the  Dragon,  in  which  the  beast  was  a 
fiend  of  partly  human  shape,  spitting  fire,  clawing  the 
poor  saint,  and  painfully  hooking  him  with  a  barbed 
tail  like  a  boat-hook.  On  an  altar  near  this,  to  the 
right  of  the  choir,  was  a  kneeling  marble  figure  of  St. 
Catherine,  with  a  head  by  Guarinai;  and  its  face  was 
of  most  emotional,  gentle,  pathetic  beauty.  On  the 
left  wall  was  a  copy  of  Leandro  Bassano's  Circum- 
cision. 

Leaving  this  rather  unsatisfactory  cathedral,  I 
stopped  just  outside  the  fortress-gate  to  admire  a 


BASSANO  149 

painted  Renaissance  mansion  on  the  east,  known  as 
the  house  of  Lazzaro  Buonamici;  I  could  see  that  the 
critics  were  right  in  considering  it  a  splendid  specimen 
of  the  arabesque  style  of  decoration,  for  the  wall- 
spaces  were  covered  with  curious  patterns,  of  grace 
and  vivid  coloring.  I  took  the  street  leading  straight 
away  southward  from  the  castle,  parallel  with  the 
river,  and  soon  stopped  again,  before  a  high  battle- 
mented  wall  constructed  of  that  strange  medley  of 
cobblestones  and  broken  bricks  which  characterizes 
medieval  masonry.  Set  in  this  wall,  in  utter  contrast, 
was  a  handsome,  marble,  Renaissance  gateway;  set 
upon  it,  some  way  from  the  gate,  was  a  bust  of  King 
Humbert,  covered  with  faded  wreaths;  and  set  within 
it  was  the  courtyard  of  a  ruinous  old  palace,  adorned 
with  a  picturesque,  roofed,  outside  staircase. 

It  was,  as  I  learned,  the  so-called  Palazzo  Pretorio. 
I  looked  for  a  while  at  the  arched  gateway,  with  its 
unusual  decoration  of  diamond  reliefs  all  over  the 
frame;  then  my  interest  was  diverted  to  a  house- 
front  across  the  way  just  beyond,  holding  fragments  of 
a  large  fresco  which  still  clearly  showed  a  fine  group  of 
lifesize  saints  and  warriors.  The  composition  was 
probably  a  Massacre  of  the  Innocents,  and  its  pink 
and  crimson  prevailing  hues  were  still  bold  enough  to 
reveal  its  original  wealth  of  gorgeous  coloring.  It 
lifted  for  an  instant,  like  a  lightning  flash,  the  veil 
from  those  cinquecento  days  when  Bassano,  with  all 
her  sister-cities,  was  embellished  from  cud  to  end  with 
such  vivid  paintings,  and  her  every  street  blazed  like  a 
hothouse  of  tropic  orchids,  -  -  radiant  in  hue  as  towns 
of  man  never  have  been  since. 

The  street  ended  in  the  upper  of  the  central  piazzas, 
close  by  the  old,  (lot  hie,  brick  tower  which  1  had 
noticed  before,  and  which  is  said  to  be  the  solitary 


150  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

remnant  of  the  palace  of  the  Venetian  podestas.  On 
tlu-  south  a  brick  church  fully  as  ancient  turned  its 
side  to  the  piazza,  decorated  with  a  Romanesque  brick 
cornice  around  its  eaves;  and  adjacent  to  this  I  found 
a  large  Romanesque  cloister,  with  a  curious  round 
tower  from  some  bygone  building  in  its  corner.  From 
the  eastern  end  of  this  piazza  another  street  runs 
southward,  and  in  this,  shortly  to  the  right,  stands  the 
city's  Museo  Civico  with  its  various  collections. 

It  was  after  lunch  when  I  repaired  to  the  Museum, 
forcing  my  way  with  difficulty  through  the  crowds, 
which,  denser  than  ever,  were  watching  the  judging  of 
the  different  bicycle  contests  in  the  market-place. 
Upon  entering,  I  was  shown  at  once  to  the  first  floor  of 
the  large  building,  into  a  central  rotunda  from  which 
branched  at  right  angles  three  fair-sized  halls.  That  to 
the  left  was  filled  with  plaster  casts  from  the  sculp- 
tures of  Canova,  and  two  or  three  of  his  original  mo- 
dels (Canova  was  born  near  Bassano,  at  the  little 
village  of  Possagno,1  and  lies  buried  there  in  a  church 
which  he  built);  that  to  the  right  held  the  municipal 
collection  of  general  paintings;  and  that  to  the  rear 
contained  the  remarkable  aggregation  of  the  works  of 
the  Da  Ponte.  I  lost  no  time  in  investigating  the 
latter,  which  proved  to  be  excellently  arranged  in 
chronological  order. 

First  there  were  two  or  three  canvases  by  Francesco 
the  elder,  rather  stiff  in  their  figures  but  quaint  and 

1  Possagno  is  worth  a  visit  by  those  having  the  time,  if  only  for  the  sake 
of  the  pleasing  drive.  It  lies  about  ten  miles  northeast  of  Bassano,  at  the 
foot  of  the  imposing  precipices  of  Monte  Gruppa;  and  the  good  highway 
thither  leads  via  the  village  of  Romano,  immortalized  as  the  birthplace  of 
Ezzelino  and  bis  tribe.  The  residence  of  Canova  may  be  seen  at  Possagno. 
The  church  which  he  built  is  a  small  imitation  of  the  Pantheon  at  Rome;  it 
contains  his  tomb,  an  altar-piece  painted  by  him,  one  of  his  sculptures  (a 
splendid  bronze  relief  of  the  Entombment),  and  a  fine  canvas  by  Porde- 
uone,  called  his  Madonna  della  Misericordia. 


►J 


■^ 


z 

< 
n 


BASSANO  151 

pleasing,  —  especially  the  large  Madonna  with  Saints 
Peter  and  Paul,  before  an  engaging  landscape  of  blue 
lake  and  bluer  mountains.  Then  came  the  works  of 
Jacopo;  perhaps  the  finest  of  these  was  the  Baptism  of 
Lucille  by  S.  Valentino,  —  an  effective  composition, 
strongly  lighted;  but  there  was  the  usual  anachronism 
of  Venetian  sixteenth-century  dress,  and  even  the 
kneeling  devout  Lucille  was  garbed  in  a  shimmering 
white  satin  gown  with  a  rope  of  pearls.  It  was  wonder- 
fully moulded  as  to  the  figures,  with  much  realism  of 
action  and  atmosphere;  many  consider  it  Jacopo's 
masterpiece.  Others  of  his  pictures  here,  however,  were 
nearly  as  good,  —  the  Nativity,  the  Circumcision,  and 
S.  Martino,  especially,  —  all  excellently  composed 
and  vigorously  drawn,  with  powerful  light-effects. 
The  S.  Martino  lingers  with  me  as  a  most  knightly 
form,  on  horseback,  in  full  armor  but  for  the  head, 
giving  his  cloak  to  a  beggar  whose  wretchedness  and 
rags  form  a  striking  contrast;  the  horse  is  splendidly 
modelled,  the  knight's  face  full  of  beneficent  feeling. 
Finally  came  the  works  of  the  third  generation;  fore- 
most of  which  was  Leandro's  large  canvas  represent- 
ing the  Podc.std  of  Bassano,  Lorenzo  Capello,  with  his 
two  small  sons  and  their  tutor,  making  obeisance  to 
the  Madonna  and  Saints  Clement  and  Bassiano 
(dated  1597)  —  a  magnificent  group  of  graceful  figures, 
finely  spaced  and  disposed,  of  excellent  tactile  value, 
in  the  sun-filtered,  heavy  atmosphere  of  a  hazy  sum- 
mer afternoon;  the  shades  of  coloring,  too,  were  lovely, 
concentrating  in  the  central  rich  carmine  of  the  cloak 
of  t  he  podestd. 

To  (ill  ii])  the  final  wall-spaces  of  this  hall  there  were 
a  number  of  modern  paintings,  including  five  beautiful 

landscapes,  of  splendid  air-  and  golden  light  -effects, 
and  three  of  Roberto  Robert  i's  (1887)  charming  Ve- 


152  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

net  inn  scenes.  The  third  hall,  to  right  of  the  rotunda, 
contained  a  surprising  quantity  of  works  of  many 
other  schools  and  epochs,  and  several  that  were  quite 
pleasing.  Among  these  was  a  Madonna  with  the 
Child  and  infant  St.  Catherine,  ascribed  to  Giovanni 
Bellini,  —  but,  although  of  considerable  worth,  the 
features  were  too  poor  for  that  master;  also  a  Ma- 
donna with  the  child  John  the  Baptist  and  another 
saint,  by  Bonifazio  Pitati,  very  rich  in  tone,  grace  and 
modeling;  a  Christ  with  Mary  Magdalen,  in  a  wonder- 
ful evening  landscape  fringed  by  golden  sky,  athwart 
which  rise  the  black  spires  of  cypresses,  —  by  an 
unknown  author,  exquisite  in  moulding  and  expres- 
sion; and  one  of  Bonifazio's  Last  Suppers,  well  com- 
posed and  realistically  drawn.  There  was  further  a 
very  Giottesque  Crucifixion,  in  tempera  on  wood,  one 
of  the  few  remaining  panels  of  Guariento,  of  Padua. 
The  whole  gallery  is  but  one  more  instance  of  the  in- 
exhaustible wealth  in  artistic  treasures  of  the  count- 
less little  cities  of  Italy. 

In  the  outskirts  of  Bassano  I  found  a  delightful 
example  of  the  statuesque  villas  of  the  Late-Renais- 
sance, the  Ca'  Rezzonico,  constructed  in  the  eight- 
eenth century  for  the  great  Venetian  family  of  that 
name,  who  for  generations  held  their  villeggiatura 
here,  in  much  pomp.  It  is  of  course  a  stuccoed  build- 
ing, according  to  the  style  of  that  epoch,  but  of  at- 
tractive lines  and  proportions,  with  square  towers  at 
the  corners;  it  has  a  noble  stone  portal  of  baroque 
design,  surmounted  by  a  head  of  Jupiter,  and  ap- 
proached by  wide-spreading  steps.  To  right  and  left 
of  these  steps  run  heavy  stone  parapets  adorned  with 
vases,  busts,  and  classic  statues,  while  other  sculp- 
tures, shrubs,  and  flower-beds  ornament  the  front 
lawn  to  its  massive  balustrade  upon  the  road.   From 


BASSANO  153 

the  centre  of  each  side  of  the  villa,  high  walls,  screening 
the  grounds  in  the  rear  with  customary  privacy, 
stretch  at  right  angles  to  columned  pavilions,  and  are 
pierced  halfway  by  classic  archways,  through  which 
one  sees  mythological  divinities  posed  in  gleaming 
marble  against  the  green  of  luxuriant  foliage. 

The  interior  is  still  more  splendid:  a  spacious, 
beautiful  atrium  greets  the  entering  visitor's  eye,  two 
stories  in  height  and  balustraded  around  the  upper 
gallery;  all  is  light  in  hue,  of  glistening  carved  marble 
or  delicately  moulded  stucco,  with  a  surprising  absence 
of  decadent  effects;  the  grand  marble  stairway  rises  at 
one  side,  approached  through  an  imposing  portico, 
and  over  this,  and  the  various  arched  doorways,  are 
posed  harmonious  groups  of  sculptured  figures.1  So 
perfectly  has  it  all  preserved  the  atmosphere  of  that 
courtly,  splendor-loving  period,  that,  as  one  gazes, 
he  half-unconsciously  expects  to  see  entering  a  silk- 
clad  noble  in  periwig  and  rapier. 

Within  the  city  I  discovered  but  one  more  item  of 
special  interest,  the  Church  of  Madonna  delle  Grazie, 
which  is  remarkable  for  its  corner  altar,  —  canopied, 
sculptured  symmetrically  in  both  stone  and  wood,  and 
holding  a  strange  ancient  Madonna  in  an  exquisite 
Renaissance  frame.  Without  the  city,  but  easily 
reached  by  carriage  over  the  fine  roads  in  sixty  to 
ninety  minutes,  there  remained  of  interest  the  little 
towns  of  Marostica  and  Asolo,  both  situated  amongst 
the  firsl  foothills  of  the  Alps,  -  the  former  about  five 
miles  to  the  west ,  t  he  latter  about  ten  miles  to  the  east. 
But  as  they  are  not  plain-towns,  I  will  sum  them  up 

1   Amongst    the    artistic    treasures    here    is    preserved    a    bas-relief   by 

Canova,  representing  the  Death  of  Socrates.  The  Villa  Parolini  I 
found  to  be  another  mansion  <>f  the  environs  worth  visiting,  f«>r  the  sake 

of  its  enchanting  park;  and  the  Church  <>f  S3.  Trinita,  at  least  until 
recently,  contained  an  excellenl  Crucifixion  by  Jacopo  du  Ponte. 


154  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

by  saying  that  Marostica  contains  quaint  arcaded 
streets,  a  piazza  with  Venetian  columns,  mouldering 
Renaissance  palaces,  medieval  town-walls  with  pict- 
uresque  gateways  and  crumbling  towers,  a  striking 
old  ruined  fortress,  called  the  Rocca,  and  a  number 
of  fine  villas  with  very  pleasing  grounds;  while  Asolo 
i^  famed  as  the  place  to  which  the  widowed  Queen 
( laterina  Cornaro  retired,  after  handing  over  Cyprus 
to  the  Republic,  and  where  she  lived  long  in  much 
well-doing,  the  centre  of  a  highly  cultured  circle,  — 
including  Cardinal  Pietro  Bembo,  who  there  com- 
posed his  "Asolanum";1  it  contains  the  villa  which 
the  ex-queen  and  her  court  occupied,  as  well  as  several 
others,  and  holds  in  its  church  a  beautiful  early  work 
of  Lorenzo  Lotto,  —  a  Madonna  with  two  saints,  of 
his  usual  superb  coloring.  Browning  loved  Asolo,  — 
and  dwelt  there  long;  it  inspired  his  "Pippa  Passes," 
and  "Asolando."1 

A  fascinating  trip  by  rail  from  Bassano  is  up  the 
new  road  through  the  tremendous  defile  of  the  Val 
Sugana,  to  the  lovely  Lake  of  Caldonazzo  and  the 
charming  old  city  of  Trento;  whence  it  is  but  a  step 
northward  to  Bozen  and  the  Tyrol,2  or  a  step  south- 

1  This  celebrated  work  of  that  great  connoisseur,  who  has  been  well 
called  "the  dictator  of  letters  of  his  period,"  and  whom  Cellini  depicted 
so  cleverly  in  his  Autobiography,  was  written  before  he  had  become  an 
intimate  of  the  glorious  Gonzaga  court  of  Isabella  d'  Este  at  Mantua; 
and  its  contents,  as  Mrs.  Oliphant  has  put  it,  were  "about  the  fantastic 
little  court  of  Queen  Catherine  Cornaro  at  Asolo,  a  small  Decameron,  full 
of  the  unreal  prettiness,  the  masques,  the  posturing,  and  versifications  of 
the  time."  He  lies  buried  in  S.  Antonio  at  Padua  (q.  v.),  where  he  also 
dwelt  many  years. 

2  To  foreigners  distressed  by  the  midsummer  heat  of  Venetia,  there  is 
no  course  so  enjoyable  and  so  inexpensive  as  to  journey  direct  to  Bozen  by 
this  new  road  (7  hours,  18  lire  in  the  second  class).  There  the  hot  weeks 
may  be  passed  delightfully  at  the  4000  feet  elevation  of  Klobenstein,  on  the 
adjacent  Ritten,  reached  easily  by  funicolare,  —  where  these  words  are 
IxiriL.'  penned;  or  one  may  seek  any  other  of  the  scores  of  cool  Tyrolese  vil- 
lages on  the  neighboring  heights. 


- 
> 


H 
— 

O 

CO 


CITTADELLA  155 

ward  to  Verona.  This  same  new  line  has  been  con- 
ducted from  Bassano  straight  across  the  plain  to 
Venice,  passing  Castelfranco  midway;  forming  thus 
the  shortest  route  between  Venice  and  the  north.  On 
leaving  Bassano  for  Cittadella,  however,  I  had  to 
descend  by  the  same  branch  road  that  had  brought 
me  up.  We  rattled  and  swayed  down  the  imper- 
ceptible slope,  leaving  the  Alps  ever  farther  and 
smaller  behind  us,  and  were  at  Cittadella  Station  in  a 
surprisingly  short  time;  —  so  powerful  is  the  aid  of 
gravity  to  a  distressed  and  aged  Italian  locomotive. 

It  was,  as  usual  in  the  Italian  summer-time,  a  won- 
drous clear  day,  with  floods  of  golden  light  from  a 
cloudless  sky;  and  nature  seemed  very  lovely  in  spite 
of  the  heat,  as  I  walked  toward  the  town  between 
umbrageous  trees  and  fertile  fields  glowing  with  flow- 
ers. To  the  right  of  the  road  soon  appeared  a  little 
stream  of  sleeping  water,  sunk  between  sloping  banks, 
dotted  with  water-plants  and  shaded  by  overhanging 
boughs;  then  through  the  dense  foliage  I  discerned  the 
farther  bank  mounting  to  a  height  of  some  twenty  to 
thirty  feet  above  the  level,  and  carrying  upon  its 
summit  an  ancient,  massive  city  wall,  curving  far  to 
left  and  right,  crowned  by  decaying  battlements  which 
reflected  themselves  peacefully  in  the  silent  fosse.  In 
their  interstices,  and  upon  the  tops  of  the  huge  square 
towers  at  intervals,  shrubs  and  bushes  flourished,  and 
part-way  up  the  crumbling  face  of  the  brick  curtain 
crept  the  tendrils  and  leaves  of  ivy. 

It  was  the  wall  of  Cittadella,  famous  to-day  for  its 
exceptional  preservation.  Seven  centuries  ago  it  was 
built ,  long  before  Kzzelino  and  his  brot  her  tyrants;  t  he 
Paduans  did  it,  to  erect  this  little  town  into  a  fortress 
against   the  Trevisans,  who  on  their  side  had  made  it 

necessary  by  fortifying  Castelfranco.    What  greater 


156  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

contrast  with  those  turbulent,  fratricidal  days  could 
there  be,  than  this  serene  and  lovely  spot,  bathed  in  a 
silence  emphasized  by  the  hum  of  noonday  insects.  I 
rested  awhile  upon  the  grassy  bank,  under  the  curving 
branches  that  dipped  the  still  water;  and  it  was  diffi- 
cult indeed  to  realize  that  over  that  very  wall  before 
me  men  had  fought  and  bled  —  had  poured  down 
stone  and  iron  and  boiling  oil  upon  their  brothers 
climbing  from  below  —  had  piled  up  the  slain  until 
they  choked  and  crimsoned  this  peaceful  stream.  And 
all  for  what  cause?  Only  because  they,  children  of  the 
same  race  and  the  same  speech,  chanced  to  live  some 
in  one  town  and  some  in  another. 

These  fortifications  did  not  avail  to  save  Cittadella 
from  incurring  the  successive  despotisms  of  her  neigh- 
bors. With  them  she  passed  from  Delia  Carrara  to 
Delia  Scala,  to  Visconti,  to  the  Serene  Republic;  but 
so  little  has  she  been  that  she  has  earned  no  part  nor 
mention  in  that  troublous  history;  —  and  the  same 
obscurity  operated  to  preserve  her  walls,  bringing 
them  strangely  to  the  front  to-day  as  an  admirable 
specimen  of  a  medieval  fortress. 

Resuming  my  walk,  I  came  shortly  beyond  to  the 
southern  and  principal  gateway  of  the  town,  the  Porta 
Padovana,  jutting  considerably  forward  from  the  wall 
beside  a  guard-tower  of  extra  size,  and  approached  by 
a  brick  bridge  of  later  construction.  On  its  decaying 
stuccoed  facade,  between  the  long  narrow  apertures 
where  once  emerged  the  supporting  beams  of  the 
drawbridge,  still  stood  the  marble  Venetian  lion;  over 
this  was  a  modern  clock-face,  and  above  that  again 
the  ancient  alarm-bell,  hanging  under  a  Renaissance 
canopy  with  four  columns.  To  the  right  of  the  gate  a 
modern  plastered  house  had  found  a  foothold  between 
the  moat  and  the  wall,  and  upon  the  bridge  lounged  a 


CITTADELLA  157 

dozen  idlers  in  very  modern  dress;  but  to  the  left  the 
long  battlements  extended  as  of  old,  presenting  a 
charming  picture  through  the  ash  trees,  cypresses,  and 
drooping  willows  that  lined  the  stream. 

The  tunnel-like  entrance  arch  admitted  me  to  three, 
separate,  square  ante-ports,  one  behind  another, 
hemmed  by  lofty  crenellated  walls,  and  connected  by 
similar  dark  archways;  certainly,  I  thought,  it  would 
not  be  an  easy  matter  to  take  such  a  gate  by  assault. 
When  I  emerged  again  into  the  sunshine,  the  main 
street,  Borgo  Vicenza,  extended  straightaway  before 
me  to  the  north,  of  most  unusual  width,  lined  by  three- 
storied,  modern-looking  buildings.  The  plan  of  the 
little  city  I  found  to  be  very  simple,  and  pleasing :  four 
gates  in  all  pierce  the  circular  enceinture,  at  each  of 
the  cardinal  points  of  the  compass,  named  after  the 
neighboring  city  on  each  side;  two  thoroughfares  con- 
nect these  entrances,  crossing  the  town  in  straight 
lines  and  intersecting  at  its  centre;  and  at  this  centre 
lies  the  piazza,  or  market-place,  with  the  parish 
church.  Looking  up  the  Borgo  Vicenza,  I  could  see 
the  Porta  Bassano  at  its  other  end,  and  that  at  such  a 
comparatively  short  distance  that  no  one  would  think 
there  could  be  ten  thousand  inhabitants  in  the  place. 
The  broad  street  was  arcaded  on  each  side,  affording 
me  a  grateful  relief  from  the  down-beating  sun  as  I 
passed  one  little  shop  after  another,  and  nearly  as 
many  dark  cafFes;  the  last  were  all  crowded  to  over- 
flowing, —  for  it  was  a  festa. 

I  stepped  into  one  of  these  narrow  drinking-places 
—  the  villager's  sole  club  and  recreation  —  and  found 
that  ii  opened  behind  into  a  pleasant  arbor  shaded  by 
luxurianl  vines,  where  a  dozen  peasants  were  gossiping 
and  singing  over  bottles  of  w  ine  on  plain  board  tables. 
I  took  a  glass  of  beer,  which  proved  to  be  quite'  fair, 


158  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

and  listened  for  a  minute  to  the  conversation;  they 
were  discussing  socialism  and  its  theories,  —  if  not 
with  a  broad  grasp,  at  least  with  strong  feeling  and 
partisanship.  Nothing  is  more  significant  of  the  future 
than  the  constantly  increasing  spread  of  those  doc- 
trines amongst  the  lower  classes;  the  Mayor  of  Rome 
to-day  is  a  socialist;  and  his  party  seems  to  be  steadily 
advancing  from  municipal  to  governmental  control. 

The  central  piazza  proved  to  be  of  considerable  size, 
with  the  Municipio  overlooking  it  on  the  west  from  a 
columned  Palladian  facade,  —  a  comparatively  mod- 
ern structure,  —  and  the  church  rising  on  the  north 
side.  The  latter  was  a  large  brick  edifice,  faced  by  six 
huge  half-columns,  also  of  brick,  but  possessing  white, 
Corinthian,  plaster  caps;  the  Corinthian  cornices  of 
the  pediment  were  likewise  of  stucco,  and  the  base- 
ment of  white  limestone.  Next  it  I  observed  a  dwell- 
ing bearing  remains  of  a  large,  early,  figured  fresco, 
with  traces  still  lingering  of  its  once  florid  coloring. 
Here  crossed  the  east  and  west  thoroughfare,  its  vistas 
framed  by  similar  modest  dwellings  and  ending  in  the 
lofty  arches  of  the  other  two  city  gates,  —  Porta 
Treviso  and  Porta  Vicenza. 

Shortly  to  eastward  on  this  Via  Venti  Settembre 
stood  the  Prefettura,  its  facade  showing  fragments  of 
extensive  painting,  and  adorned  with  a  red  marble 
Renaissance  doorway,  over  which  was  the  old  Vene- 
tian lion,  of  the  usual  polished  white  marble.  Evid- 
ently there  had  been  little  outward  change  here  since 
the  days  of  the  Republic's  podestas.  TheTrevisan  gate 
at  the  east  end  bore  also,  over  its  heavy  archway,  the 
remains  of  a  large  mural  painting.  The  Porta  Bassano 
at  the  north  was  the  most  heavily  fortified  entrance  of 
the  four;  here  there  were  four  separate  fortified  ports, 
a  number  which  I  have  very  seldom  seen  elsewhere, 


63 

H 
a. 

< 


y. 


- 


6- 
1. 

z 
< 


CITTADELLA  159 

that  I  remember,  —  two  inside  the  wall,  one  within  its 
thickness,  and  one  outside.  All  over  them,  and  upon 
the  wall  proper,  which  here  was  as  lofty  in  places  as 
seventy-five  feet  above  the  moat,  were  battlements  of 
unusual  length,  —  those  upon  the  foremost  ante-port 
being  Ghibelline,  or  forked.  The  fosse,  here  also,  had 
lost  all  its  warlike  aspect  under  the  peaceful  shade  of 
cypresses  and  drooping  willows;  and  its  rounding  inner 
bank,  mounting  high  to  the  brickwork,  was  prettily 
covered  with  shrubs  and  shade-trees. 

Returning  to  the  church,  I  found  the  morning  con- 
gregation just  streaming  out,  and  entered  past  them 
into  the  spacious  nave.  There  were  no  aisles;  and  upon 
the  side  altars,  to  my  surprise,  stood  a  number  of  inter- 
esting canvases.  The  first  on  the  left  held  a  work  of 
Leandro  Bassano,  an  azure  Madonna  in  clouds,  above 
S.  Francesco  and  other  saints,  including  a  bishop  of 
marvelously  embroidered  robe;  —  a  strongly  painted 
picture,  of  fine  tone  and  grace  and  modeling.  Next  it 
was  a  remarkable  Crucifixion  from  the  same  hand, 
representing  the  Father  as  bending  from  heaven  to 
embrace  the  dying  Son  upon  the  Cross,  with  the  Ma- 
donna and  various  other  saints  grouped  below,  and  — 
curiously  enough  —  Christ  again  represented  as  the 
Child  in  his  mother's  arms;  this  was  also  a  strong  work, 
clearly  and  vigorously  drawn  and  moulded,  in  an 
exquisite  deep  rich  tone,  with  hazy  atmosphere,  and 
softest  coloring  in  broad  masses.  There  were,  further, 
a  good  Pitfd  of  the  school  of  Mantegna,  clearly  show- 
ing that  master's  style,  and  in  the  sacristy,  a  most 
realisl  i<-  Supper  in  Emmseus  by  Francesco  Bassano  the 
younger.  So  once  more  was  it  demonstrated  that  in 
wonderful    Italy  no  village   is   too  small    to  have  its 

masterpieces. 

A-  I  wmded  my  \v;iy  back  to  the  Station,  1  passed, 


160  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

outside  the  southern  gateway,  on  the  left,  a  building 
thai  was  mi  enlightening  example  of  the  way  in  which 
these  small  towns  are  still  erecting  fine  edifices;  it  was 
a  newly  finished  mansion  of  three  or  four  stories,  of 
remarkably  pure  and  beautiful  Renaissance  lines,  —  a 
delight  to  the  eye.  Twenty  minutes  later  I  had  caught 
my  train,  and  was  speeding  (?)  to  Castelfranco.  We 
went  a  little  north  of  east,  through  the  same  ever  fer- 
tile landscape,  varied  only  by  the  lofty  ridge  of  the  Alps 
keeping  us  company  on  the  left;  and  in  half  an  hour  or 
less  I  had  descended  at  my  destination.  This  was  not, 
I  will  own,  without  considerable  misgivings;  for  the 
sun  was  already  well  toward  the  horizon,  and  the 
necessity  stared  me  in  the  face  of  spending  the  night  in 
this  out-of-the-way  place.  But  I  plucked  up  my  cour- 
age With  the  reflection,  that  in  Italy  a  bed  is  always 
comfortable,  and  followed  a  porter  with  my  bag  on  his 
shoulder  to  the  first-named  hostelry  in  the  guidebook. 
Ten  minutes  northward  walking  brought  us  into  the 
town,  and  five  more  to  its  central  piazza.  Then  there 
loomed  suddenly  before  me  a  castle  of  such  size  as  I 
had  never  seen  before,  —  its  vast,  battlemented,  brick 
wall  sweeping  on  northward  from  tower  unto  tower 
for  full  half  a  mile,  apparently,  topped  in  the  centre  by 
a  keep  of  huge  proportions,  while  to  the  westward  ran 
another  side  of  equal  length;  both  walls  rose  upon  an 
artificial  bank  thirty  to  forty  feet  in  height,  at  whose 
foot  flowed  the  ancient  sluggish  moat;  and  over  their 
battlements  within  soared  other  towers,  and  domes, 
and  roofs  of  buildings.  It  was  a  startling  sight  to 
burst  upon  one's  view  so  unexpectedly,  impressive  in 
its  grandeur,  its  sense  of  might,  and  intimacy  with 
medieval  days.  At  each  corner  of  the  fortress  —  the 
southeastern  one  where  I  stood,  and  those  which  I 
could  discern  at  the  ends  of  the  two  sides  —  were 


CASTELFRANCO  161 

square  piles  of  enormous  massiveness;  but  those  in  the 
middle  of  the  lines  were  by  far  the  loftiest,  and  evid- 
ently guarded  of  old  the  entrances;  that  on  the  south- 
ern wall  had  had  a  belfry  added  to  its  summit,  and 
beside  it  there  loomed  above  the  battlements  the  high 
white  apse  and  dome  of  a  large  church. 

Thus  I  saw  that  this  was  not  an  individual  castle, 
but  a  town-fortress,  containing  streets  and  varied 
buildings;  —  it  was  the  original  Castelfranco,  which 
the  Trevisans  erected  as  their  fortified  outpost  against 
the  raiding  Paduans  in  1199,  and  also  to  act  as  a  re- 
straint upon  the  freebooting  proclivities  of  the  Cam- 
posampiero  family,  who  occupied  a  stronghold  not  far 
away  (now  demolished).  'The  colony  of  Trevisans 
who  first  settled  here  lived  entirely  outside  the  castle, 
and  pledged  themselves  to  maintain  200  horse  for  the 
defense  of  the  frontier.  In  return  for  this  service  they 
were  exempt  from  certain  taxes,  and  therefore  called 
their  dwelling  'Free  Castle.'"  '  They  earned  their  ex- 
emption, for  there  was  an  almost  constant  state  of 
warfare,  brigandage,  and  harassing  tactics  against 
Treviso's  enemies  on  this  side,  until  the  territory  was 
acquired  by  Venice  in  1329,  —  the  first  step  of  the 
Republic  upon  the  mainland.  Under  her  sway  Castel- 
franco was  seldom  disturbed;  the  chief  exception  being 
the  advance  of  the  Emperor  Maximilian  during  the 
War  of  Cambrai,  when  the  fortress  was  saved  from 
destruction  only  by  an  obsequious  surrender. 

Prior  to  that,  however,  — during  the  later  quattro- 
cento, —  the  castle  was  occupied,  with  the  consent 
of  the  Venetian  Government,  by  the  powerful  con  dot  - 
tiere  Tuzio  Costanzo,  who  had  gained  this  recom- 
pense by  his  services  for  the  Republic,  and  kept  it 
while  lie  lived.   Now  it  remained  but  the  centre  of  the 

1   Horatii)  P.  Brown,  In  and  Around  Venice. 


162  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

modern,  enlarged  town  of  twelve  thousand  inhabitants, 
and  the  long  open  areas  on  its  north  and  cast  sides 
formed  the  people's  market-place  and  piazza.  Lines  of 
dwellings  t ha  t  looked  fully  as  aged  as  the  fortress 
frowned  at  it  across  the  sunlit  spaces,  rising  upon 
continuous  arcades  with  decrepit,  ancient  pillars,  shad- 
owing diminutive  shops  that  seemed  to  have  slept  for 
centuries.  In  the  northeast  corner  was  the  only  life, 
and  there  it  was  over-abundant;. for  the  whole  popu- 
lation were  evidently  gathered  there  en  masse,  watch- 
ing a  small  boy  draw  lottery  numbers  from  a  cage,  in 
alternations  of  breathless  interest  and  surging  howls. 

Through  this  excited  crowd  my  guide  led  the  way 
with  considerable  difficulty,  and  immediately  ushered 
me  into  a  carriage  entrance  penetrating  the  buildings 
upon  the  piazza's  northern  flank.  On  the  right  of  this 
passage,  in  the  rear,  was  a  worn,  dirty,  stone  staircase, 
and  on  the  left  a  typical  Italian  kitchen,  with  its  large 
brick  hearth  for  the  open  fire,  and  rows  of  highly 
burnished  copper  utensils  decorating  the  smoky  walls. 

"Ecco!"  cried  the  facchino,  proudly  waving  his 
hand,  and  setting  down  my  bag,  "un  grande  albergo!" 
To  judge  by  his  tone  the  native  fondly  conceived 
it  an  hotel  of  the  premier  order.  —  "Where  is  it?"  I 
asked,  gazing  blankly  around,  while  my  heart  sank 
with  a  leaden  dismay. 

"Here,"  he  responded,  again  indicating  the  kitchen, 
"and  above,"  — -pointing  upward;  "and  this  is  where 
one  eats,"  —  with  a  flourish  of  his  hand  around  the 
dirty  passage  and  toward  the  stableyard  behind.  I 
began  to  wish  that  I  had  never  heard  of  Castelfranco. 
Not  a  living  soul  was  to  be  seen.  I  got  rid  of  my 
enthusiastic  companion  with  half  a  lira,  and  after  some 
search  unearthed  from  a  closet  a  little  wizened  old 
woman,  who  moved  by  jerks,  with  a  terrible  volubil- 


< 


X 


< 

S 
H 
< 

O 

- 
■i. 

an 

- 


Q 

< 
-- 
■— 

z 


CASTELFRANCO  163 

ity  of  which  I  could  hardly  catch  a  word,  and  whose 
blazing  little  eyes  held  the  light  of  a  lunatic.  I  finally 
understood  that  no  room  could  be  had  at  present,  be- 
cause all  were  occupied  by  the  town  gentry  in  viewing 
the  lottery-drawing;  nothing  whatever  could  be  done 
until  that  epoch-making  event  should  be  terminated. 
After  sitting  around  the  kitchen  for  half  an  hour,  how- 
ever, the  yelling  outside  subsided,  the  people  gradu- 
ally dispersed,  and  a  landlady  appeared  to  conduct 
me  to  a  chamber.  It  was  a  huge  old  room  on  the 
first-floor  front,  with  a  lofty  arched  ceiling,  sparsely 
furnished  with  an  iron  bed  and  washstand,  a  decayed 
wooden  dresser,  table,  and  single  chair,  —  which  were 
lost  in  the  shadows.  The  little  old  woman,  who  ap- 
peared to  have  been  permanently  assigned  to  me,  tot- 
tered in  and  out  from  the  adjacent  hall,  bringing  towels 
and  water,  and  chattering  without  cessation,  demand- 
ing what  I  wanted  to  eat,  where  I  came  from,  how 
long  I  should  stay,  when  I  should  retire  and  rise,  and 
a  hundred  other  things,  -  -  until  I  shut  and  locked  the 
door  upon  her  in  despair.  Then  she  would  not  allow 
me  to  rest,  -  -  continually  returning  to  bang  upon  the 
door  and  scream  more  questions,  and  finally  station- 
ing herself  to  babble  through  the  keyhole.  The  queer- 
est part  of  all  this  was,  that  it  was  not  the  acting  of  a 
complete  lunatic,  but  simply  the  endeavors  of  a  peas- 
ant, who  seldom  sees  a  person  of  the  upper  class,  to 
render  herself  exceedingly  helpful  and  agreeable;  I 
have  often  had  encounters  of  this  nature  in  remote 
places,  though  never  another  so  extreme. 

To  gel  away  from  her  noise  I  withdrew  to  the  fur- 
ther window,  thrusting  my  head  out ,  leaning  over  the 
.sill,  and  found  myself  opposite  the  northeast  eornerof 
the  castle,  with  a  splendid  view  down  its  north  and 
c;i>!   -ides.    The  sun  hail  set,  and  the  upward-stealing 


M\[  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

shadows  were  emphasizing  the  massiveness  of  the 

ureal  walls  ami  lowers,  rising  from  the  still  darker 
masses  of  trees  and  shrubbery  along  the  moat's  high, 
sloping,  inner  bank.  The  thought  came,  of  the  vast 
labor  that  it  must  have  taken  to  pile  up  such  a  bank 
of  earth,  —  thirty  to  forty  feet  in  height,  and  a  sixth 
of  a  mile  long  on  each  side  of  the  quadrangle,  —  seven 
hundred  years  ago,  when  they  had  no  implements  but 
picks  and  spades,  no  powder  to  blast  with,  nor  steam 
engines  to  drill  or  shovel.  The  chief  tower,  in  the 
centre  of  the  east  side,  bore  a  large  clock-face  of  later 
days;  and  upon  its  summit  an  octagonal  open  lantern 
lifted  its  columns  and  pointed  cupola  against  the  deep 
blueness  of  the  sky,  with  its  stripes  of  fleecy  gold. 

Behind  that  very  keep,  within  those  walls,  had  met 
in  long-gone  days  the  solemn  conclave  of  Lombardy's 
strongest  Ghibelline  rulers,  —  the  noble  chieftains  of 
the  Visconti,  the  Gonzaghi,  the  Estensi,  and  the  Delia 
Carrara,  to  cement  their  solemn  federation  against  the 
pretensions  of  John  of  Bohemia.  It  was  on  August  6, 
1332.  The  Emperor  had  temporarily  gone  to  Avignon, 
to  confer  with  Pope  John  XXII,  leaving  his  son  Charles 
at  Parma  to  act  as  general  viceroy  in  his  absence;  and 
the  opportunity  was  seized  by  some  of  the  leading 
plain-towms  to  league  themselves  for  mutual  support, 
—  for  "the  Ghibelline  nobles  were  afraid  lest  he  might 
engage  in  a  conspiracy  with  the  Pope  to  crush  their 
power."1  It  was  almost  the  only  occasion  through  all 
the  centuries  that  those  four  antagonistic,  warring 
families  met  together  in  peace  and  harmony.  In  my 
fancy  I  could  see  that  pomp  of  arms  and  blazonry,  the 
courtyards  ringing  with  the  tread  of  knights  and  flash- 
ing with  their  shields  and  pennons;  —  each  prince  striv- 
ing to  impress  the  others,  and,  while  he  greeted  them 

1  Oscar  Hrowniag,  Guelphs  and  Ghibelline.i,  chap.  xn. 


CASTELFRANCO  165 

with  honeyed  words  and  ermine  robes,  wearing  under 
the  latter  a  shirt  of  mail,  and  watching  every  move- 
ment for  a  dagger  thrust,  every  wine-cup  for  a  treach- 
erous poison. 

It  was  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  after  this  that 
Tuzio  Costanza  acquired  the  fortress.  In  1495,  when 
the  Venetians  had  leagued  with  the  other  powers  to 
drive  Charles  VIII  out  of  Italy,  and  the  League  had 
appointed  Francesco  Gonzaga  its  commander-in-chief, 
Tuzio  headed  his  own  company  under  the  latter,  and 
won  such  fame  by  his  exploits  against  the  French  that 
the  Duke  of  Orleans  bestowed  upon  him  the  famous 
appellation  of  "the  best  lance  in  Italy."  Tuzio's  son 
Mattco  became  a  condottiere  also,  and  fought  with  his 
company  for  Venice,  as  his  father  had  done;  he  was 
in  the  way  of  attaining  renown,  when  he  was  slain  at 
Ravenna  in  1504,  —  and  the  broken-hearted  father 
brought  home  the  body  to  his  castle.  Matteo  was 
buried  in  the  old  church  of  the  fortress,  under  a  tomb 
that  became  celebrated  for  its  beauty;  and  Giorgione, 
his  friend,  immortalized  his  knightly  form  in  color. 

Immediately  before  my  window,  upon  the  sward  of 
the  fosse's  outer  bank  opposite  the  corner  tower,  stood 
a  memorial  that  led  my  thought  to  these  softer,  pleas- 
anter  channels.  It  was  a  gleaming  marble  statue,  upon 
a  high,  well-shaped  pedestal,  of  a  comely  youth  clad 
in  charming  ciii'inecento  costume  of  rich,  embroidered 
doublet  ;iik1  long-hose,  with  a  graceful  cloak  falling 
from  bis  shoulders,  and  a  jaunty  velvet  cap  upon  his 
curls;  and  in  his  left  hand  he  held  a  painter's  palette, 
in  his  right  a  brush.1  It  was  Giorgione  himself  -the 
great    Giorgione;   "born   halfway   between   the  moun- 

tains  and  the  sea,  thai  young  George  of  Castelfranco 

1  This  charming  work  vras  executed  in  1h~k,  by  tli<-  Venetian  sculptor, 
I'.'  nvenuti 


166  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

—  Stout  George  they  called  him,  George  of  Georges, 
so  goodly  a  boy  lie  was.  Have  you  ever  thought  what 
a  world  his  eyes  opened  on  —  what  a  world  of  mighty 
life  -of  loveliest  life,  when  he  went  down,  yet  so 
young,  to  the  marble  city,  and  became  himself  as  a 
fiery  heart  to  it?"1 

I  know  naught  in  our  language  besides  this  splendid 
simile  of  Etuskin's  that  so  well  conveys  the  immediate, 
powerful  effect  which  the  genius  of  this  marvelous 
youth  had  upon  the  Venice  and  the  art  of  the  Renais- 
sance. It  was  in  1477  that  he  first  saw  the  light  in  this 
little  town,  a  child  by  his  father's  side  of  the  locally 
prominent  Barbarelli  family,  while  his  mother  was  a 
peasant  from  Vedalago;  and  from  the  tenderest  age 
his  whole  impressionable  and  passionate  soul  devoted 
itself  to  absorbing  the  beauty  of  all  existing  things, 

—  throbbed  with  it,  and  radiated  it  with  tongue  and 
brush  to  all  about  him.  His  physical  personality  also 
reflected  this  love  of  the  beautiful;  when  he  had  gone 
to  labor  at  Giovanni  Bellini's  studio,  and  grown  to 
first  manhood,  his  commanding  figure,  noble  head, 
and  graceful,  dignified  deportment,  quickly  drew  from 
the  Venetians  that  sobriquet  by  which  he  is  still  known. 
Like  the  proverbial  flashing  meteor,  as  has  been  well 
said,  his  star  soared  above  his  master's  and  all  others', 
glowed  unsurpassably  brilliant  in  the  meridian,  and  as 
quickly  perished  of  its  own  internal  fires.  Who  that 
knows  Giorgio  Barbarelli  through  his  works,  does  not 
love  him,  -  -  and  who  that  is  acquainted  with  the  sad- 
ness of  his  early  fate,  does  not  compassionate  it?2 

'In  his  works  two  characteristics  prevail,  senti- 

1  Tuthill,  Precious  Thoughts  from  Ru.ilnn. 

2  Be  died  in  L512  at  Venice,  at  the  age  of  33,  his  heart  broken  —  so  it 
is  said  —  by  the  faithless  conduct  of  his  inamorata,  Cecilia,  in  secretly 
transferring  her  affections  to  Giorgio's  pupil,  Pietro  Luzzo.  The  remains 
lie  near  those  <>f  bis  friend  Matteo  Costanzo,  in  the  Castelfranco  cemetery. 


■- 
- 


I. 

V. 


y. 


- 
■— 


CASTELFRANCO  167 

ment  and  color,  both  tinged  with  his  peculiar  temper- 
ament; the  sentiment  is  noble  but  melancholy,  and 
the  color  decided,  intense,  and  glowing.  He  was  the 
first  Venetian  who  cast  aside  the  antiquated  con- 
straint of  the  Bellini  school,  treated  art  with  freedom, 
and  handled  his  colors  in  a  bold,  decided  manner. 
The  works  of  Giorgione  are  amongst  the  most  rare 
and  beautiful  examples  of  the  Venetian  school."1 
Alas,  that  they  are  so  very  rare;  to  come  upon  one 
is  like  finding  a  coruscating  ruby  in  a  bed  of  sand. 
Who  does  not  cherish  with  keen  delight  the  memory 
of  that  wonderful  Concert  in  the  Pitti,  with  its  at- 
mosphere of  languorous  dreamy  eventide  through 
which  the  musicians'  strains  are  stealing! 

Kugler's  famous  summary  is  the  best:  "His  paint- 
ings generally  have  a  luminous  power  and  subdued  in- 
ternal glow,  the  sternness  of  which  forms  a  singular 
contrast  to  the  repose  which  prevails  without;  and  his 
portraits  represent  an  elevated  race  of  beings  capable 
of  the  noblest  and  grandest  efforts." 

It  was  the  very  rareness  of  these  supreme  works 
which  had  brought  me  to  Castelfranco;  not  that  this 
his  native  town,  as  one  would  naturally  suppose,  con- 
tains any  number  of  them;  but  because  here  exists  one 
canvasthat,  in  theopinion  of  many  critics,  is  the  great- 
est and  most  glorious  of  them  all.  It  hangs  in  the 
parish  church  of  S.  Liberate;  —  not  a  portrait,  like 
the  majority  of  his  works,  but  a  large  pietist ic  tableau, 
of  the  Mndonna  enthroned  with  Saints  Liberate  and 
Francesco  by  her  side. 

At  this  point  in  my  meditations  a  renewed  and 
louder  shrieking  through    the   keyhole   by   my   crazed 

attendant   recalled  me  with  the  information  that  it 

was  time  to  go  down  and  dine.    I  descended  wit  h  fore- 
1  Shrilil,  Fam&ua  Painters  </"</  Painting). 


168  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

boding,  and  was  placed  at  a  small  table  in  the  dusty 
carriageway,  in  the  company  of  a  number  of  hatted 
gentlemen,  who,  as  usual,  bellowed  at  each  other  and 
drank  wine  until  they  grew  perilously  red  in  the  face. 
However,  the  soup  and  macaroni  were  excellent,  and 
I  "made  out"  surprisingly  well.  When  it  was  time  to 
retire,  my  faithful  attendant  led  me  to  my  chamber 
with  a  lighted  candle,  and  continued  her  running, 
chattering  performance  of  the  afternoon,  until  I  put 
her  out  and  told  her  to  return  no  more.  When  she 
had  finally  disappeared,  I  recollected  that  I  had  no 
drinking-water,  and  looked  for  a  bell;  there  was  none. 
I  shouted,  and  banged  the  table  in  the  great  shadowy 
hall,  but  no  one  came.  I  descended  the  staircase,  — 
and  found  the  doors  at  its  bottom  tightly  locked. 
The  situation  faced  me  that  I  was  alone  in  this  queer 
old  building,  and  bolted  in. 

It  was  one  of  the  strangest  predicaments  that  my 
travels  have  ever  given  me.  In  those  huge  gaunt  halls, 
so  full  of  shadows  and  silence,  it  had  a  sinister,  alarm- 
ing aspect;  I  knew  nothing  whatever  about  this  place, 
and  all  the  old  tales  of  travelers  robbed  in  out-of-the- 
way  inns  began  to  course  through  my  head.  Every 
act  of  the  old  woman  and  the  other  queer  inmates 
assumed  a  new  significance,  as  I  paced  up  and  down 
1 1 1  rough  the  darkness;  because  I  could  obtain  no  water, 
I  immediately  acquired  a  thirst  of  extraordinary  in- 
tensity; I  noticed  for  the  first  time  that  the  candle 
was  old  and  low,  and  would  soon  leave  me  in  an  appal- 
ling gloom;  finally  the  thought  of  a  possible  fire  came 
to  me,  starting  perhaps  in  some  other  part  of  the 
building,  when  I  should  be  trapped  like  a  mouse,  — 
for  the  window's  were  twenty  feet  from  the  stones 
below.  Wrought  by  all  these  ideas  to  desperation  — 
I  laugh  now  whenever  I  think  of  it  —  I  took  up  a 


CASTELFRANCO  169 

heavy  chair,  again  descended  the  stairs,  and  battered 
furiously  upon  the  panels  of  the  doors,  making  a  din 
that  would  have  roused  the  seven  sleepers.  For  a  long 
time  there  was  no  response;  I  redoubled  my  efforts, 
—  and  at  last  heard  feet  approaching,  a  key  turn  in 
the  lock,  and  saw  a  sleepy,  round,  night-capped  face 
thrust  in  before  me,  with  an  expression  of  comical 
bewilderment  that  I  shall  never  forget. 

"By  the  Madonna!  what  was  happening?  Was  the 
house  falling  down?  —  Had  the  spirits  gone  after  the 
signore?  —  What  was  the  signore  doing  with  that 
chair?"  —  Considerably  discomfited  and  abashed, 
but  still  angry,  I  made  my  complaints  as  to  the  ab- 
sence of  bell,  water,  and  candle;  the  woman  brought 
me  the  two  latter  articles,  reclosed  the  door,  and  I 
heard  the  key  again  turn  in  the  lock.  I  was  obliged  to 
return  to  the  upper  hall;  and  then,  at  a  sudden  remem- 
brance of  all  her  words,  the  horrors  commenced  to 
travel  down  my  back  in  rapid  waves.  —  "Had  the 
spirits  gone  after  the  signore!"  —  Great  Heavens! 
Then  there  were  supernatural  beings  in  these  dismal 
chambers,  that  were  accustomed  now  and  then  to 
"go  after"  unfortunate  visitors!  —  This  was  worse 
than  before;  —  locked  alone  in  an  ancient  palace, 
haunted  by  spectres,  that  visited  their  wrath  upon 
intruders! 

Of  course  I  do  not  believe  in  ghosts,  —  who  does?  — 
but  I  am  not  ashamed  to  confess  that  I  shivered  as 
I  looked  horror-stricken  around  the  shadowy  corners, 
dreading  each  second  to  behold  some  fearful  appari- 
tion. I  wished  now  with  all  my  soul  that  I  had  never 
heard  of  Castelfranco.  Each  dark  piece  of  furniture 
assumed,  ;i>  my  eye  fell  upon  it  in  the  dusk,  some 
shapeless,  moving  form;  each  step  that  I  cautiously 
made,  echoed  into  some  semblance  of  unearthly  noise. 


170  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

1  stole  to  my  chamber  door,  fooling  that  all  about  me 
were  unseen  malevolent  beings,  reaching  toward  me 
with  their  ghostly  hands.  Then  an  actual  sound  that 
was  do  echo  shrilled  from  the  dark  end  of  the  hall,  — 
a  frightful  squeak,  or  gibber,  of  fiendlike  accents, — 
thai  lifted  my  hair  straight  upon  end  and  completed 
my  discomfiture.  I  bounded  into  the  room,  slammed 
and  bolted  the  door,  and  threw  off  my  clothes  faster 
than  I  had  ever  done  in  my  life,  not  daring  to  look 
around;  —  crawling  into  bed  in  a  minute,  under  the 
shelter  of  the  sheets,  as  good  Mr.  Pickwick  did  when 
he  had  read  the  autobiography  of  the  madman. 

When  I  awoke  in  the  morning,  with  the  sunshine 
pouring  brightly  in,  how  ludicrous  seemed  the  inci- 
dents of  the  night —  how  I  laughed  as  I  recalled  them. 
And  that  final  uncanny  sound,—  why,  it  was  naught 
but  the  squeak  of  a  mouse  in  the  wall ;  the  ghosts  were 
mice,  and  nothing  more. —  But,  I  took  care  not  to 
spend  another  night  in  such  a  prison. 

After  an  early  breakfast  I  entered  the  fortress  upon 
its  northern  side,  where  a  later  brick  bridge  crosses  the 
moat,  and  the  lofty  wall  is  broken  down  for  some  dis- 
tance. To  the  west  from  the  bridge,  the  fosse  has  at 
this  place  more  than  its  usual  garniture  of  grassy, 
slopes  with  shrubs  and  flowers,  for  hence  extends  upon 
the  outer  bank  a  fine  row  of  giant  plane  trees,  and 
beneath  them,  a  pleasant  shady  promenade  beside  the 
silent  water.  On  the  evening  previous  I  had  walked 
here  for  a  while,  and  encountered,  in  the  darkness 
pierced  only  by  twinkling  eaffe-lights  across  the  piazza, 
quite  a  number  of  coupled  lovers,  strolling  in  signifi- 
canl  silence  and  contiguity.  This  morning  the  scene 
was  very  different,  for  it  was  clearly  another  festa:  the 
two  lines  of  buildings  fronting  the  piazza  were  bril- 
liant with  the  waving  red,  white,  and  green  of  the 


CASTELFRANCO.     MADONNA    LSD  CHILD   WITH   saints.    (GIORGIONE.) 


CASTELFRANCO  171 

national  colors;  crowds  moved  about  aimlessly,  the 
men  stiff  and  awkward  in  their  holiday  clothes;  and 
now  came  the  town  band  with  a  flourish  of  trumpets, 
pompously  marching  to  the  national  air,  cheered  by 
the  populace  and  followed  by  a  long  string  of  men  and 
boys.  But  the  dignity  of  the  procession  was  sadly 
injured  by  the  musicians  having  no  uniforms,  and  being 
all  in  shirt-sleeves,  with  an  extraordinary  variety  of 
soiled  and  threadbare  waistcoats.  I  could  not  help 
laughing  at  their  ludicrous  appearance,  and  the  per- 
fect solemnity  with  which  their  orderless  tail  mean- 
dered after  them.  Up  and  down  the  long  piazzas  they 
marched,  all  that  morning,  ceaselessly  tooting  the 
same  air,  whose  tired  strains  followed  me  into  every 
street. 

The  fortress  I  found  to  be  quartered  just  like  Citta- 
della,  by  two  main  thoroughfares  crossing  at  right 
angles  in  the  centre.  The  one  which  I  now  entered  ran 
from  the  northern  gateway  (utterly  destroyed)  to  the 
church  at  the  south  end;  and  few  traces  of  age  were 
visible  in  the  freshly  painted  stucco  buildings  that 
confined  it  closely  without  arcades.  Still  narrower 
side  ways,  like  alleys,  diverged  occasionally  between 
brick  walls  more  clearly  aged  and  dilapidated.  On  the 
left  I  passed  the  town  theatre,  which  —  as  usual  with 
every  Italian  borough,  however  small  —  was  large 
and  carefully  ornate,  witli  great  columns  supporting 
a  classic  portico.  Shortly  beyond  was  the  intersection 
of  the  east  and  west  avenue,  presenting  quite  a  differ- 
ent aspect  because  of  the  huge,  towered  gateways 
overlooking  it  at  the  ends;  upon  this  also,  just  to  the 
left,  stood  the  Municipio,-  a  simple  hut  well-designed 
Renaissance  structure,  arcaded  on  the  ground  story. 

I  continued  t<>  S.  Liberate,  whose  lofty  facade  look- 
ing down  the  street   was  likewise  of  modern   Renais- 


172  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

sance  design;  it  was  exceptionally  light  in  color,  being 
of  painted  stucco,  and  imitated  a  Doric  temple,  with 
four  enormous  half-columns  supporting  a  cornice  and 
pediment  of  that  order.  Statues  crowned  theflatgable, 
and  adorned  the  side  parapets  of  the  entrance  court; 
while  behind  on  the  right  soared  the  old,  dark,  central 
tower  of  the  southern  wall,  with  battlements  topping 
its  added  belfry.  That  was  the  original,  early  campa- 
nile, but  this  was  not  the  original  church,  for  which 
Giorgione  painted  his  altar-piece,  —  in  which  he  was 
buried,  and  to  which  TuzioCostanzo  brought  the  body 
of  his  warrior-son;  that  structure  had  been  razed,  and 
this  late,  pretentious  edifice  reared  in  its  place,  while 
the  tombs  of  the  two  friends  were  removed  to  the  local 
cemetery. 

I  found  the  single  doorway  open,  and  lifting  the 
heavy  leathern  curtain,  passed  within.  A  beautiful, 
spacious  nave  of  Renaissance  design  greeted  me,  with 
a  lofty,  arched  roof,  an  elevated  choir,  backed  by  a 
rounded  apse,  and  similar  apses  at  the  ends  of  the 
short  transept;  the  lower  aisles  were  divided  off  by 
heavy  piers,  and  arches  springing  from  Ionic  half- 
columns  at  their  sides,  over  which  ran  a  handsome 
block  cornice;  while  above  the  intersection  of  nave 
and  transept  rose  a  majestic  dome.  All  was  in  glisten- 
ing white,  except  the  accentuating  brown  trimmings 
on  the  capitals,  mouldings,  and  entablature.  No  paint- 
ings of  merit  were  in  the  church  proper,  but  I  found 
them  in  the  sacristy,  to  the  left  of  the  choir;  its  walls 
were  covered  with  pictures,  forming  the  only  public 
collection  in  Castelfranco. 

Among  them  were  several  by  Paolo  Veronese,  fres- 
coes brought  hither  from  the  nearby  Villa  Soragna: 
two  female  figures  representing  Justice  and  Temper- 
ance, over  the  doors, —  both  graceful,  well-modeled, 


CASTELFRANCO  173 

and  beautifully  clothed,  and  a  ceiling-piece  represent- 
ing Fame  blowing  her  trumpet,  with  old  Father  Time, 
wearing  an  hour-glass  for  a  hat.  Besides  these  was 
a  canvas,  in  the  rear  passage,  a  lovely  Marriage  of  St. 
Catherine  in  that  master's  best  style,  faded  indeed  as 
to  colors,  but  exceedingly  well-composed,  dignified,  and 
expressive.  Here  was  also  a  Circumcision  by  Palma 
Giovane  (signed,  1610),  with  individually  charming 
figures  of  soft,  well-moulded  flesh-work,  and  of  a  fine, 
rich  tone;  but  —  as  so  often  with  him  —  the  figures 
were  too  numerous,  crowded,  and  unrestful. 

The  said  rear  passage  led  me  to  the  space  behind 
the  high  altar,  which  is  kept  carefully  locked  and  the 
key  intrusted  to  one  certain  man  only,  who  had  to  be 
sent  for  to  open  the  door.  There  was  good  reason  for 
such  care,  for  there,  alone  upon  the  apse-wall,  glis- 
tened that  treasure  of  treasures  beyond  all  price,  — 
Giorgione's  pala.  The  Madonna  appears  seated  upon 
a  marble  throne,  which  is  taller  than  the  heads  of  the 
two  standing  saints,  —  its  lower  base  of  red  marble,  with 
a  medallion  of  the  Costanzi  arms  in  its  centre,  its 
pedestal  of  glittering  Carrara,  draped  in  the  middle 
with  a  falling  damask  rug  of  exceeding  beauty.  The 
throne  itself  is  of  simplest  possible  design,  relieved 
only  by  a  striped,  grass-colored  carpet  under  the  Ma- 
donna's foot,  and  a  cloth  of  red-and-gold,  flowering 
pattern  at  her  back.  The  long-lashed  eyes  of  her  pure, 
exquisite  face  are  downward  cast,  her  hit  hand  rest- 
ing upon  the  rectangular  marble  arm  of  the  seat,  her 
right  hand  and  knee  holding  the  sacred  Infant,  who 
looks  towards  S.  Liberate.  Nothing  could  be  more 
simple  also  than  the  Madonna's  garb,  —  the  loose, 
open-necked  bodice  of  velvet -green,  the  full-draped, 
unadorned  robe  of  softest  rose,  and  the  white  linen 
kerchief  upon  her  head. 


174  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Back  of  the  throne  there  runs  across  the  stage  at 
man's  height  a  dark-carmine  screen,  which  sets  forth 
well  the  two  forms  before  it  of  monk  and  warrior,  and 
reveals  behind  it  a  distant  landscape  of  indescribable 
charm,  —  verdurous  groves  and  castellated  hill, 
spreading  vale  and  dim  blue  mountains  crowned  by 
towered  cities,  all  swathed  in  heavy,  shimmering  air. 
But  that  to  which  the  eye  turns  from  the  beauteous 
Madonna,  is  the  knightly,  youthful  form  of  S.  Libe- 
rale:  clad  cap-a-pie  in  glittering  mail  he  stands,  even 
to  helmet,  gusset,  and  genouilliere,  —  a  short-sword  at 
his  side,  in  one  hand  a  staff  whose  pennon  droops 
above  his  head;  a  manly, noble,  martial  figure,  with  the 
sunlight  glistening  upon  the  polished  facets  of  the 
armor,  —  yet  gracious  in  his  bearing,  and  gentle  in  the 
boyish  face  that  looks  with  quiet  eyes  from  the  un- 
visored  casque.  These  were  the  face  and  form,  tradi- 
tion tells  us,  of  Matteo  Costanzo;  and  the  armor  is 
that  very  mail  which  lies  carved  upon  Matteo's  mar- 
ble figure  on  his  tomb.  Once  besides  this  his  friend 
Giorgio  portrayed  him,  in  that  identical  S.  Liberate 
which  was  bequeathed  by  Samuel  Rogers  to  the  Brit- 
ish National  Museum,  and  which  was  the  study-piece 
for  this. 

Over  the  whole  picture,  arranged  with  such  happy 
symmetry  and  balance,  disposed  with  such  repose  and 
gracefulness,  radiates  that  magical  glow  of  gold  and 
crimson  intermixed  that  seems  to  pour  forth  from  some 
hidden  fiery  interior,  —  that  lifts  the  simple  scene  and 
quiet  figures  into  a  glimpse  of  heavenly  glory,  and 
makes  us  long  for  such  beatitude.  Well  indeed  may 
the  greatest  of  critics  pronounce,  that  "foremost 
among  the  productions  acknowledged  by  successive 
generations  as  true  Giorgiones,  we  should  place  the 
altarpiece  —  in  the  Church  of  Castelfranco."1 

1  Crowe  and  Cavalcascllc. 


CASTELFRANCO  175 

When  I  left  the  church,  it  was  to  stroll  thoughtfully 
down  to  the  fortress's  eastern  gate,  with  the  lofty 
clock-tower  above  it;  and  there,  as  I  traversed  its 
tunnel-like  entrance,  upon  the  outer  keystone  of  the 
central  arch  my  wandering  eyes  lighted  upon  a  little 
painting  of  surprising  beauty,  that  to  me  as  certainly 
bore  the  marks  of  Giorgione  as  did  the  masterpiece  I 
had  left.  The  shadows  that  would  hide  it  from  most 
passers-by  have  preserved  its  lovely  coloring  with 
exceptional  vigor.  It  is  a  simple  fresco  of  the  Madonna 
and  Child,  exquisite  in  the  lines  and  moulding  of  the 
forms,  as  well  as  the  grace  of  the  attitudes;  and  the 
fair-haired  child  is  truly  one  of  the  few  loveliest  that 
I  have  ever  seen.  I  made  inquiries  as  to  its  authorship, 
but  nothing  is  known  with  certainty. 

The  piazza  without  this  gate  is  used  for  cattle  fairs 
on  Fridays,  —  when  it  must  be  a  curious  sight  to  see 
it  packed  with  those  hundreds  of  white  and  pearly 
oxen,  in  row  after  row,  to  the  confining  arcades.  At 
its  southeast  corner  I  found  a  house  with  fairly  well- 
preserved,  Late-Renaissance  frescoes  on  its  facade, 
amusing  in  design;  in  one  of  them  was  Hercules,  slay- 
ing the  lion,  —  in  another,  strangling  in  his  arms  a 
rather  laughable,  kicking  Antaeus.  Three  other  dwell- 
ings of  the  town,  which  a  guide  is  necessary  to  point 
out,  are  of  some  interest:  one  of  them  the  ancient 
ruinous  residence  of  the  Costanzi,  in  the  Vicolo  del 
Paradise-  (what  should  we  think  of  an  Anglo-Saxon 
street  labeled  the  Heavenly  Way?),  distinguished  now 
by  nothing  particular  except  the  family  escutcheon 
in  the  gable  toward  the  court;  another  being  the 
house  in  which  Giorgione  was  born,  —  although  of 
questioned  authenticity.  The  third  is  the  house  where 
the  master  customarily  stayed  when  revisiting  the 
city ;   it    is   located   near  the  church,  upon   the  same 


17(5  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

piazza,  —  as  I  afterwards  found;  —  a  plain  stuccoed 
building,  much  altered  from  the  pristine  plan,  but  still 
showing  traces  of  its  illustrious  occupant  in  the  re- 
mains of  his  frescoes  upon  the  ceiling  of  the  former 
hall.  These  represent  every  sort  of  instrument,  mus- 
ical and  otherwise,  amidst  an  extraordinary  assem- 
blage of  human  heads  and  skulls,  masks,  helmets, 
shields,  gorgons,  books,  easels,  hour-glasses,  etc.,  all 
of  which  seem  to  have  been  sketched  in  a  spirit  of 
amusement,  yet  with  a  clear  fertility  of  sprightly 
fancy,  and  an  undeniable  power  of  execution  and 
decorativeness;  —  qualities  which  confirm  our  belief 
in  the  correctness  of  their  attribution  to  Barbarelli, 
whose  spirit  was  ever  gay  in  those  days  when  he 
lingered  here  amidst  a  few  chosen  disciples.1 

1  Amongst  those  pupils  for  a  time  was  Pordenone,  who  had  followed 
Giorgione  from  the  studio  of  Bellini,  eager  to  acquire  the  mastery  of  these 
wondrous  new  developments,  which  —  he  could  well  see  —  would  raise 
painting  to  its  meridian.  This  it  was  which  made  him  the  great  master 
that  he  became.  / 


CHAPTER  VI 

TREVISO    AND    THE    VILLA    GIACOMELLI 

Fair  Italy! 
Thou  art  the  garden  of  the  world,  the  home 
Of  all  Art  yields,  and  Nature  can  decree. 
Even  in  thy  deserts,  what  is  like  to  thee? 
Thy  very  weeds  are  beautiful,  thy  waste 
More  rich  than  other  climes'  fertility; 
Thy  wreck  a  glory,  and  thy  ruin  graced 
With  an  immaculate  charm  which  cannot  be  defaced. 

—  Lord  Byron. 

Twenty  miles  north  of  Venice,  halfway  between  the 
Alps  and  the  lagoons,  sits  the  ancient  city  known  to 
the  Romans  as  Tarvisium,  and  to  the  modern  Italians 
as  Treviso,  which  formerly  guarded  the  great  highway 
from  the  Serene  Republic  to  the  north,  as  Padua 
guarded  that  to  the  west.  When  Titian  made  one  of 
his  frequent  journeys  to  the  Dolomites,  to  the  high 
(adore  country  and  picturesque  Pieve  where  he  was 
born,  he  would  follow  this  highway  of  all  the  centuries, 
—  from  the  shore  of  the  Lagoon,  or  Mestre,  by  horse- 
back to  Treviso,  where  he  lay  overnight;  then  across 
the  wide  bed  of  the  Piave  to  Conegliano  at  the  foot  of 
the  hills,  and  Serravalle  at  the  head  of  its  ascending 
vale;  whence  the  pass  of  the  Col  Vicentin  led  the  tide 
of  travel  by  a  short  cut  over  the  mountains,  to  Belluno 
and  the  upper  valley  of  the  Piave.  From  Belluno  the 
artist  had  another  long  day's  ride  up  thai  magnificent 
defile  to  the  place  of  his  nativity  and  boyhood,  perched 
upon  its  castled  liill  far  above  the  joining  waters  of 
the  Rave  and  the  Boite,  -  where  the  signory  and  the 
population  werewont  to  receive  their  illustrious  Fellow- 


ITS  PLAIN    TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

citizen  with  joyous  <V.</,.  From  Pieve  the  countless 
travelers  for  German  lands  pressed  on  by  either  of  the 
three  excellent  passes  leading  to  the  valley  of  the  Drau 
and  the  Tyrol. 

That  which  conduced  to  Treviso's  ancient  import- 
ance even  more  than  this  route,  was  her  location  upon 
the  greatest  of  all  lines  of  communication,  —  that  over 
the  Julian  Alps  to  the  northeast:  the  land  route  from 
Italy  to  Dalmatia,  Hungary,  and  the  Orient,  —  the 
way  by  which  those  swarms  of  barbaric  invaders 
poured  into  the  plain  of  Lombardy.  For  the  various 
passes  united  at  Udine,  and  led  westward  by  one  high- 
way, to  join  the  northern  road  at  Conegliano.  Treviso 
was  early  made  a  Roman  Municipium,  and,  legend 
has  it,  by  Julius  Caesar  himself.  It  suffered  greatly 
from  the  barbarian  invasions  and  sank  into  obscurity; 
to  rise  again  in  the  twelfth  century  as  the  dominant 
town  of  all  this  section  of  the  plain,  in  which  there  was 
no  other  large  place  as  far  as  the  confines  of  Udine. 
For  a  glorious  time  the  little  republic  flourished, 
maintained  its  independence,  and  fought  with  Padua 
on  the  south;  but  it  was  in  this  beautiful,  rich  terri- 
tory, well  watered  by  swift  streams,  —  known  as  the 
Trevisan  Marches, —  that  Ezzelino  attained  his  first 
successes  as  a  conqueror;  he  seized  Treviso  at  the  be- 
ginning of  his  career,  and  his  brother  Alberic  long 
governed  her  with  tyrannous  power.1  After  Ezzelino's 
death  in  1259,  the  little  city  fell  before  the  Carrara, 
was  later  captured  by  Can  Grande  della  Scala,  —  who 

1  Here  it  was  that  Alberieo.  angered  by  the  seizure  of  his  daughter 
Adelisa  and  her  husband  Rinaldo  d'Este,  who  were  taken  as  hostages  by 
Frederick  II,  shut  himself  up  in  1239,  imprisoning  all  the  city  officials 
and  defying  the  Emperor's  power.  In  consequence  whereof  the  luckless 
Trevisans  had  to  endure  a  long  and  frightful  siege  from  the  Paduans  and 
other  imperialists,  which  ended  in  Alberico's  extinction,  and  their  annexa- 
tion for  a  time  to  the  Paduan  domains. 


TREVISO  179 

died  here,  at  the  height  of  his  fame,  in  1329,  —  and 
finally  was  taken  by  the  intervening  Venetians,  in 
1339,  when  Treviso  and  her  immediate  territory  — 
including  Castelfraneo,  Conegliano,  and  other  smaller 
places —  formed  the  first  mainland  possessions  of  the 
Republic,  upon  the  peninsula.1 

In  1356,  Treviso  was  already  so  attached  to  her 
sovereign  as  to  endure  without  flinching  a  long  and 
terrible  siege  from  Lewis  the  Hungarian;  in  1380,  she 
faced  another  from  Francesco  Carrara;  and  she  con- 
tinued to  bear  manfully  the  attacks  dealt  against  the 
Mistress  of  the  Sea  throughout  all  the  wars  of  those  cen- 
turies, standing  by  her  unto  the  coming  of  Napoleon. 
From  1813  onwards  Treviso  suffered  with  her  sister- 
towns  the  odious  domination  of  the  Austrian;  but  in 
the  revolution  of  1848  she  played  an  heroic  part,  endur- 
ing a  siege  and  bombardment  without  proper  means  of 
defense,  until  forced  to  yield  by  overwhelming  power, 
After  the  final  victory  of  I860,  her  plebiscite  for  union 
with  the  Kingdom  of  Italy  was  noteworthy  for  the  fact 
that  out  of  6990  votes  cast  not  one  was  against  the 
proposition. 

The  city  is  located  at  the  confluence  of  the  small 
rivers  Sile  and  Botteniga;  Dante  lingered  in  his  wan- 
derings at  their  place  of  junction,  struck  by  the  beauty 
of  the  swift,  tree-shaded  streams,  which  he  mentioned 
in  the  Paradiso  (ix,  1-3)  — the  latter  under  the  appella- 
tion of  Cagnan.  In  the  history  of  arl ,  Treviso  has  been 
of  little  importance,  developing  no  school  of  merit  like 
her  Bister-towns,  no  single  artist  of  high  rank;  nor  did 
she  turn  herself  in  Renaissance  days  to  much  cultiva- 

1  This  was  ;i  pari  of  the  despoliation  of  the  weak  Mastino  1 1  della  Scala, 
1  i  Grand*  i  luccesaor,  which  was  worked  in  concert  by  the  Venetians, 
tli<-  Visconti,  and  the  Della  Carrara;  and  which  ultimately  reduced  the 
huge  Scala  kingdom  to  naught  but  the  adjacent  cities  <>f  Verona  and 
\  i.  enza. 


ISO  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

tion  of  painting  or  architecture.  Her  most  interesting 
buildings  come  down  to  us  from  the  earlier  times  of 
Romanesque  and  Gothic  designs;  and  her  indulgence 
in  the  brush  was  mainly  confined  to  the  coloring  of 
facades,  -  -  in  which  respect  she  "furnishes  the  most 
modern  specimens  of  house  decoration,  giving  proof 
of  a  deep  study  of  the  great  Mantegnesque  examples."  ! 

At  the  cud  of  the  trecento  the  little  known  but  highly 
interesting  Tommaso  da  Modena  came  here  to  fill 
the  churches  and  monasteries  with  his  frescoes;  but 
the  Trevisans  poorly  followed  his  excellent  example 
and  influence,  developing  only  second-  and  third-rate 
artists  like  Dario,  Pietro  Pennachi,  and  the  latter's 
son  Girolamo.  This  Girolamo  da  Treviso  was  the  best 
of  the  lot,  —  having  benefited  by  the  influence  of 
Squarcione  and  his  Paduan  school,  —  and  did  more 
than  any  of  the  others  to  beautify  his  town.2  But 
Treviso  could  give  birth  to  great  artists  if  she  could 
not  teach  them;  to  the  studios  of  Venice  she  sent  that 
illustrious  trio,  Rocco  Marconi,  Lorenzo  Lotto,  and 
Paris  Bordone,  —  of  whom,  however,  but  very  few 
specimens  remain  in  their  native  place. 

The  plan  of  Treviso  shows  an  oblong  quadrangle, 
whose  east  and  west  diameter  is  nearly  twice  the 
length  of  the  north  and  south;  and  is  delimited  still 
by  its  huge  Renaissance  brick  walls  and  moat.  The 
Botteniga  strikes  it  at  the  centre  of  the  northern  side, 
dividing  forthwith  into  a  half-dozen  branches,  two 
of  which  follow  the  moat  to  right  and  left  and  supply 
its  water,  the  others  of  which  flow  through  the  city, 
marking  out  as  they  do  so  the  limits  of  the  original 

1  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle. 

2  Pennachi  was  an  unimportant  pupil  of  Carpaccio.  Girolamo,  of  more 
talent,  became  finally  one  of  the  chief  engineers  of  the  English  King,  Henry 
\  III,  fur  whom  he  built  various  structures  and  fortresses,  and  was  slain 
while  prosecuting  for  him  the  siege  of  Boulogne. 


TREVISO  181 

smaller  town,  and  turning  many  mill-wheels  with  their 
swift  impetus. 

The  Sile,  coming  from  the  west,  enters  the  moat  at 
the  southwest  corner  and  courses  broadly  along  it  to 
the  southeastern  angle,  dividing,  for  half  the  distance, 
into  two  arms  that  inclose  a  long,  narrow  island  at  the 
centre  of  the  southern  side,  —  the  right-hand  arm 
being  the  city  fosse,  the  left-hand  and  broader  arm 
flowing  between  tree-shaded  quays.  Into  this  last 
empty  the  different  branches  of  the  Botteniga,  its 
main  branch  joining  towards  the  island's  eastern  end. 
In  the  very  centre  of  the  town  lies  appropriately  its 
chief  piazza — "Dei  Signori,"  — from  which  the  prin- 
cipal thoroughfare,  under  the  names  of  Via  Venti  Set- 
tembre  and  Via  Vittorio  Emanuele,  runs  windingly 
down,  across  the  island,  to  the  main  gate  at  the  middle 
of  the  southern  wall. 

Just  without  this  gate  —  the  Barriera  Vittorio 
Emanuele — stands  the  railroad  station;  and  here  I 
debarked  late  in  the  afternoon,  after  an  uneventful 
three-quarter-hour's  run  from  Castelfranco,  hoping 
that  in  this  place  of  thirty-five  thousand  inhabitants  I 
should  find  a  comfortable,  modernized  hotel.  Across 
the  sunny  piazza  I  saw  the  flowing  moat,  and  behind  it 
the  great,  grim,  brick  walls  of  the  cinquecento,  masked 
on  the  riglit  hand  by  the  foliage  of  a  charming  little 
park  extending  eastward  along  the  stream;  through 
its  cool  shade  meandered  gravelled  paths,  attended 
by  flower-beds,  and  upon  its  benches  sat  many  loung- 
ers, watching  a  do/en  stately  swans  sporting  in  the 
water  under  the  shadows  of  the  battlements. 

I  climbed  into  the  'bus  of  the  hotel  to  which  I  had 
been  recommended  at  Vicenza,  endowed  with  that 
common  but  pleasing  name  of  Stella  d'  Oro  (Golden 
Star),-     and  rattled  away  over  the  cobbles,  through 


ISO  PLAIN  TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

tin-  Barrier,  over  a  long  piazza  crossing  the  island,  and 
a  bridge  at  its  end  across  the  main  arm  of  the  Sile. 
Picturesque  old  houses  backed  upon  the  water's  north- 
(iii  hank,  and  a  pleasant,  shady  quay  adorned  the 
southern.  Thence  the  Via  Vittorio  Emanuele  took 
us  winding  between  ancient  houses,  freshened  by  mod- 
ern paint  and  plaster,  filled  with  trim  little  shops,  until 
at  an  eastward  bend  we  crossed  the  first  arm  of  the 
Botteniga  —  a  narrow,  dark,  dirty  stream  between 
aged  walls,  that  once  formed  here  the  moat  of  the 
primal  town;  and  immediately  beyond  it  we  drew  up 
before  an  imposing,  handsome  building  occupying  a 
block  of  its  own,  having  a  garden  on  the  side  toward 
the  water.  It  was  the  hotel;  and  very  much  aston- 
ished* and  pleased  was  I  to  find  such  a  one  in  a  little 
town  of  this  size,  seldom  visited  by  foreigners.  They 
gave  me  an  attractive,  newly  furnished  room  over  the 
garden,  where  I  was  nightly  lulled  to  sleep  by  the 
rhythmical  murmur  of  the  current;  and  the  table, 
—  which,  like  the  other  towns,  was  entirely  a  la 
carte  —  proved  of  equal  excellence.  Thus  can  one  live 
in  provincial  Italy  on  the  fat  of  the  land,  at  a  price 
of  no  more  than  eight  to  nine  francs  per  day. 

After  dinner,  under  the  trees  in  the  garden,  illum- 
ined by  colored  lanterns,  I  strolled  northeastward  up 
the  Via  Venti  Settembre  —  how  much  Italians  ever 
make  of  that  occupation  of  Rome! — to  the  Piazza  dei 
Signori.  The  dark  battlemented  form  of  the  four- 
teenth century  Prefettura  loomed  up  on  its  eastern 
side,  with  caffe  lights  shining  from  its  heavy  arcades; 
other  caffes  illumined  the  nearer  side  of  the  area,  and 
all  of  them  had  spread  their  crowd  of  little  tables  far 
out  upon  the  flagged  pavement,  occupying  half  the 
open  space.  Seated  at  them,  and  moving  through  them 
with  visiting  gossip,  were  throngs  of  well-dressed  peo- 


TREVISO  183 

pie,  —  the  aristocracy  of  Treviso,  taking  their  evening 
outing.  Other  throngs  less  aristocratic  strolled  up  and 
down  in  the  space  between  the  phalanxes  of  tables, 
and  massed  themselves  strongly  at  the  piazza's  south- 
ern end.  Here  there  rose  another  arcaded  building,  of 
Renaissance  lines,  with  lofty  arches,  —  the  palace  of 
the  governmental  telegraph  department,  occupied  also 
by  the  city  fire  department,  and  the  museum  of  paint- 
ings. Before  this  I  now  discerned  a  band-stand  erected, 
filled  with  ornate  regimental  musicians,  about  to  com- 
mence the  evening  concert.  I  took  a  seat  at  a  table, 
and  enjoyed  my  cafe  noir,  watching  the  people  and 
listening  to  the  music. 

The  band  played  at  intervals  selections  —  as  usual 
—  from  the  German  and  Italian  operas;  it  is  always 
a  wonder  to  me  what  excellent  instrumentalists  are 
found,  and  developed,  amongst  the  youths  of  every 
Italian  regiment.  The  people,  well  though  not  smartly 
dressed,  the  women  in  styles  less  fashionable  than  in 
the  larger  cities,  sipped  their  coffee  and  liqueurs  and 
innocuous  syrups,  clearly  with  more  enjoyment  in  their 
conversation  than  in  the  drinks,  as  is  the  national  way. 
I  ascertained  that  these  concerts  occurred  upon  two 
or  three  evenings  a  week,  as  in  all  garrison  towns;  but 
these  good  gossiping  Trevisans  would  be  found  here 
every  night.  They  sat  in  family  parties  about  the  tiny 
tables,  talking  and  laughing  with  incessant  volubility, 
sometimes  all  at  once;  while  those  gentlemen  who 
evidently  conceived  themselves  especially  popular  or 
witty,  moved  from  group  to  group  with  elaborate  salu- 
tations and  smiling  quips.  Villari  has  so  succinctly 
expressed  this  phase  of  Italian  life  that  I  can  do  no 
better  than  repeat   his  words:  — 

"The  streets  and  cafes  are  places  of  rendezvous  for 
all  classes.    The  idle  section  of  the  jcuncsse  dorce  pass 


1st  PLAIN  TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

more  than  half  the  day  lounging  about  the  main  streets, 
chattering  and  gossiping.  Even  men  of  business  and 
hard -working  professional  men  prefer  to  meet  in  the 
street  or  at  some  cafe  to  discuss  their  affairs  and  see 
their  friends,  rather  than  in  their  own  homes.  Differ- 
ent cafes  are  frequented  by  different  classes.  One  is 
the  resort  of  the  officers,  another  that  of  university 
professors,  another  of  students,  another  of  lawyers. 
The  ordinary  cafe  is  at  best  a  somewhat  dismal  resort; 
it  is  dusty,  stuffy,  and  uncomfortable;  the  chairs  are 
apt  to  collapse,  the  sofas  are  dingy,  and  cleanliness  is 
not  remarkable."1  To  this  should  be  added  that  in  a 
small  place  like  Treviso  the  central  piazza,  rather  than 
the  streets,  is  the  general  rendezvous;  it  is  the  drawing- 
room  of  a  large  and  very  friendly  household,  whose 
members  are  more  at  home  in  it  than  in  the  chambers 
where  they  reside;  to  use  the  old  metaphor,  it  is  the 
true  heart  of  the  city,  where  beats  its  pulse,  and  form 
its  feelings;  and  its  life  pours  forth  through  all  the 
arteries,  to  flow  back  like  the  tide. 

When  I  returned  to  this  piazza  next  morning,  the 
dim  mass  of  the  Prefettura  had  resolved  itself  into  a 
structure  of  most  interesting  details:  the  piazza  run- 
ning from  northwest  to  southeast,  the  palace  occupies 
three  quarters  of  its  northeastern  flank,  —  a  huge, 
three-storied  edifice  of  yellowish  brick,  with  two  great, 
projecting  wings  inclosing  a  good  section  of  the  square. 
It  comes  from  Romanesque  days,  having  been  first 
constructed  in  1184,  and  much  rebuilt  in  the  past  cen- 
tury. The  whole  ground  story  of  the  right  wing  is  a 
large  open  loggia,  half-filled  by  the  tables  of  a  caffe; 
and  along  the  first  story  of  the  main  body  and  the 
left  wing,  runs  a  round-arched  brick  arcade,  upon 
glistening,  white  stone  pillars. 

1  Luigi  Villari,  Italian  Life  in  Town  and  Country. 


TREVISO  185 

But  its  chief  beauty  lies  in  the  long  series  of  splen- 
did triple  Romanesque  windows  upon  the  second 
storv,  carefully  restored;  the  three  arches  of  each 
being  adorned  with  terra-cotta  labels  over  their  brick 
quoins,  and  supported  by  two  pairs  of  coupled  shafts 
of  polished  marble,  —  all  recessed  within  a  large  arch 
outlined  in  terra-cotta  placques.  Other  Romanesque 
windows  adorn  the  third  story  of  the  main  body,  — 
dainty  little  double  lights,  each  with  a  single  pair  of 
coupled  shafts,  one  behind  the  other;  while  over  them 
runs  a  Romanesque  brick  cornice,  surmounted  by 
Ghibelline  battlements,  —  which  continue  along  the 
right  wing.  Soaring  over  the  whole,  from  the  rear  of 
the  central  structure,  is  the  majestic  municipal  tower, 
its  loftv  stuccoed  face  unbroken  save  bv  the  clock  and 
two  tiny  embrasures,  its  deep-arched  belfry  frowning 
war-like  from  its  crenellations.  Altogether,  this  is  one 
of  the  few  most  interesting  and  characteristic  public 
buildings  erected  in  North  Italy  during  the  era  of  the 
municipal  republics. 

I  looked  at  the  marble  tablets  covering  the  pillars  of 
the  right  wing  toward  the  inclosed  space,  and  found 
them  to  be  the  town's  memorials  to  the  heroes  of  the 
Risorgimento.  On  the  other  side  of  this  wing  is  a 
superb  outer  stairway,  with  marble  balustrade,  rising 
upon  arches  to  a  Gothic  doorway  in  the  second  story; 
and  in  the  centre  of  the  adjacent  section  of  the  piazza 
stands  a  marble  statue  of  Independence,  as  a  female 
in  classic  garb  leaning  upon  a  battleflag-standard  and 
holding  a  Wieatfa  of  laurel. 

I  Ira  versed  a  passage  through  the  middle  of  the 
palace,  to  another,  smaller  piazza  in  its  rear,  upon 
which  it  looks  with  a  broad  arcade  sustained  by  slim 
columns  rising  from  a  parapet  ;  under  this  arcade  open 
the  doors  of  two  small  churches,  side  by  side,  —  S. 


186  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Vito  and  S.  Lucia,  —  dating  from  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury. The  latter  bore  formerly  the  curious  name  of  the 
Madonna  of  the  Prisons,  —  which  used  to  be  adjacent ; 
in  it  condemned  prisoners  received  the  last  rites  of  the 
Church  before  being  executed  in  the  piazza  without, 
and  their  poor  mutilated  bodies  were  then  interred  in 
the  vaults.  Neither  of  the  edifices  contains  anything 
remarkable,  —  beyond  a  fair  canvas  by  Titian's 
nephew,  Marco  Vecellio,  over  the  high-altar  of  S.  Vito. 

Immediately  next  to  them,  however,  under  the 
same  palatial  roof,  are  the  rooms  of  the  local  Monte  di 
Pieta,  in  one  of  which  hangs  a  very  unusual  painting, 
generally  ascribed  to  Giorgione;  an  attendant  showed 
it  to  me,  in  a  sort  of  council  chamber  on  the  first  floor. 
It  represents  the  dead  form  of  our  Lord,  nude  but  for 
a  loincloth,  sitting  upon  the  lid  of  his  sarcophagus 
with  one  leg  inside  the  latter  and  one  outside,  leaning 
backward  against  some  winged  putti  who  are  pushing 
and  pulling  to  accomplish  the  interment;  a  ghastly 
sounding  subject,  and  the  picture  is  even  more  brutal 
than  it  sounds,  —  the  Christ's  figure  being  disagree- 
ably muscular,  in  hardened  bunches,  the  skin  of  deadly 
leaden  hue,  the  aspect  of  the  face  horrifying;  and  it  is 
so  violently  foreshortened  that,  interesting  as  it  is  to 
artists,  it  must  strike  the  average  beholder  unpleas- 
antly. It  is  powerful  and  realistic,  —  that  cannot  be 
denied,  —  and  the  moulding  of  the  flesh  is  of  most 
exceptional  solidity;  also  the  putti,  taken  separately, 
are  very  graceful,  charming  little  forms,  while  the 
toning  and  coloring  are  of  that  deep  gorgeousness 
peculiar  to  Barbarelli. 

Yet  it  did  not  seem  to  me  to  be  that  master's  work. 
"If  in  all  [his]  canvases  we  have  examined,  the  com- 
mendable features  are  quiet  movement,  just  propor- 
tion and  gentle  shape,  here  we  are  bound  to  admire  the 


TREVISO  187 

colossal  torso  and  herculean  limbs  of  a  giant,  the  mus- 
cular strength  and  fleshy  growth  of  angels  aping  juv- 
enile athletes,  and  a  tendency  to  depict  strong  action 
or  equally  strong  foreshortening.  In  the  dashing  fresco 
which  Pordenone  finished  at  San  Niccolo  of  Treviso 
...  we  observe  the  same  neglect  of  drawing,  the  same 
display  of  flesh  and  muscle,  and  similar  contractions 
of  extremities."1  It  is  really,  therefore,  with  small 
room  for  doubt,  one  of  Pordenone's  works  done  soon 
after  his  graduation  from  Giorgione's  teaching;  the 
products  of  which  period  have  ever  since  been  mis- 
taken for  the  master's. 

From  the  northwest  side  of  the  Piazza  dei  Signori 
the  chief  thoroughfare  continues  in  that  direction 
under  the  name  of  Via  Calmaggiore.  Starting  now  up 
this,  my  eyes  rested  first  upon  the  old  Renaissance 
palace  to  the  right,  at  the  corner  of  street  and  piazza, 
whose  facade  is  covered  with  rustica  up  to  the  fourth 
storv,  all  of  the  same  heaviness,  —  a  rather  extraor- 
dinary  design.  The  effect  is  bad,  and  is  accentuated 
bv  the  lack  of  anv  cornice.  This  is  really  the  left  wing 

%j  %j  *> 

of  the  Prefettura;  its  side  towards  the  piazza  bears  a 
lower  continuation  of  the  arcades,  on  marble  pillars, 
and  three  upper  rows  of  simple  oblong  windows  di- 
vided by  graduated  marble  pilasters,  —  from  Doric 
on  the  first  floor  to  Corinthian  on  the  third.  Adjacent 
to  this  upon  the  street  is  a  facade  more  quaint  and 
interesting,  —  the  Casa  Alessandrini,  likewise  of  dn- 
(juccerito  design;  it  rises  upon  an  arcade  of  two  wide 
arches  only,  and  terminates  in  a  simple  wooden  roof, 
but  is  adorned  with  two  beaut iful  Renaissance  bal- 
conies;  and  all  over  the  stucco  of  the  three  stories  are 
the    remains    of    excellent    frescoes    executed    by    the 

cinquecentisl   Pozzasaretto,  -    a  number  of  the  large 

1  Crowe  and  Cavulcascllo,  n,  3. 


1SS  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

figures  being  clearly  preserved,  in  that  queer  dark  pink 
or  roseate  tint  of  flesh  used  upon  house-fronts. 

The  way  continued,  narrow  and  shadowy  between 
heavy  arcades  on  both  sides,  picturesque  with  its  old 
facades  of  every  style  and  epoch,  alive  under  the  colon- 
nades with  bright,  varied  little  shops  and  throngs  of 
people,  (rumbling  Romanesque  dwellings  frowned 
down,  dwellings  with  details  of  Gothic  days,  dwellings 
of  the  Renaissance  age, — adorned  with  columns,  or 
handsome  window  frames  only,  or  marble  balconies,  or 
large  fragmentary  frescoes  of  pink  and  carmine  hues. 
Finally  the  apse  and  side  of  a  great  church  loomed 
upon  my  left,  with  a  huge  unfinished  campanile  of 
massive  stones,  so  ponderous  as  to  confirm  without 
words  the  story  that  the  Trevisans  once  started  to 
build  a  tower  higher  than  that  of  any  other  city,  and 
had  to  relinquish  the  attempt  as  beyond  their  means. 
These  were  the  campanile  and  body  of  the  Duomo.  I 
followed  a  diverging  wray  between  the  tw7o,  passing  on 
the  right,  adjacent  to  the  former,  an  aged,  moulder- 
ing house  writh  curious,  heavily  barred  windows  and 
an  outside  staircase,  and  next  to  this  again,  the  an- 
cient Baptistery,  —  a  tumbledowm  brick  structure  with 
Romanesque  mouldings;  then  I  emerged  upon  the  ex- 
tensive piazza  over  which  the  Cathedral  faces  north- 
westward. 

This  Piazza  del  Duomo  is  fully  a  hundred  and  fifty 
yards  long  from  southwest  to  northeast,  and  half  as 
broad.  It  is  gloriously  dominated  and  brightened  by 
the  Duomo's  mighty  fagade,  with  its  six  huge  Ionic 
columns  rising  upon  their  lofty  flight  of  steps,  —  a 
most  successful  example  of  modern  classicism,  having 
been  added  in  the  last  century  to  the  original  edifice 
of  the  twelfth  and  fifteenth.1    To  right  of  it  stretches 

1  It  is  mostly  a  Renaissance  structure,  jiaving  been  en  ti rely  remodeled 


TREVISO  189 

the  long  Vescovado,  or  Bishop's  Palace,  of  Late- 
Renaissance  design,  with  an  elaborate  columned  en- 
trance and  arabesque  frescoes.  Its  right  wing,  front- 
ing the  piazza  on  the  southwest,  is  an  older  structure 
of  two  stories  only,  having  a  whole  architectural 
scheme  painted  on  its  flat  stuccoed  wall,  —  pilasters, 
rustica,  cornice,  ornamental  panels,  string-course, 
niches  containing  vases,  frames  to  the  windows,  and 
even  a  frescoed  balustrade  across  the  top.  I  began  to 
think  the  very  windows  must  be  painted  too. 

Across  the  sunny  open  space,  diagonally  opposite 
the  Cathedral  and  behind  a  row  of  shade  trees,  rises 
the  Tribunale,  or  court-house,  —  a  fine,  large,  modern 
building.  On  the  northeast  side  is  one  of  Treviso's 
most  interesting  house-fronts,  dating  from  Renaissance 
days,  with  various  pretty  details,  including  a  four- 
windowed  loggia  with  openwork  marble  panels;  and 
above  the  loggia  its  whole  wall  is  frescoed  in  once  rich, 
cinquecento  designs  of  fertile  fancy,  —  among  them 
mermaids  sporting  in  a  sea,  and  at  the  very  top  a 
curious  checkerboard  effect  in  red  and  white. 

I  mounted  the  high  steps  of  the  Duomo  and  entered, 
finding  myself  in  a  broad,  vaulted  nave  without  tran- 
septs, crowned  by  three  successive  domes,  —  the  sec- 
ond over  the  choir,  and  third  over  the  retro-choir;  at 
the  sides  were  single,  lower  aisles,  flanked  by  very 
shallow  chapels.  The  spacious  structure  was  of  good 
Renaissance  lines,  simple  but  well-proportioned,  and 
majestic  in  effect,  —  almost  the  only  architectural 
decoration  being  the  rosettes  upon  the  soffits  of  the 
arches.  The  stuccoed  pillars  were  painted  light-brown, 
likewise  all  the  trimmings,  leaving  in  glistening  white 

on  Ui<-  earlier  foundation*  by  Retro  Lombardo,  in  its.".  [505;  and  the 
majestic  classic  interior  is  one  of  tli<-  Lombardi'a  beal  titles  to  fame.  The 
p-<1  marble  lions  "f  the  portico  are  relics  <>f  the  medieval  church. 


190  PLAIN  TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

the  side  walls  and  arches,  the  sections  of  the  vaulting, 
and  illumined  domes.  A  handsome  tesselatcd  pave- 
ment of   red  and  white  marbles  completed  the  scene. 

But  there  were  masterpieces  here  also;  and  I  com- 
menced the  round,  —  noticing  immediately  upon  the 
first  altar  to  the  right  a  pleasing  old  canvas  of  Madonna 
and  Saints, of  rich  tone,  good  drawing,  and  pious  atmo- 
sphere, holding  a  delightful  little  girl-angel  upon  the 
step  of  the  throne,  who  with  a  plaintive  air  crushes 
some  flowers  to  her  bared  bosom.  I  was  told  that  the 
author  was  unknown.  In  the  second  chapel  I  saw  Bor- 
done's  Adoration  of  the  Shepherds,  with  excellently 
modeled,  expressive  figures,  in  a  weird  landscape  of 
hills  and  ruined  temple,  and  over  all  a  heavy,  shad- 
owy air  effect,  in  that  master's  peculiar,  rich,  brown 
tone.  Here  against  the  second  pillar  was  also  a  relief 
of  the  Lombardi,  representing  the  Visitation,  — a  beau- 
tiful thing,  with  an  expression  in  Elizabeth's  face  very 
deep  and  wonderful  for  stone. 

But  in  the  chapel  to  the  right  of  the  choir  I  came 
upon  the  gem  of  the  whole  place,  and  of  Treviso,  — 
Titian's  Annunciation:  the  Madonna  is  kneeling  upon 
a  checkered  marble  floor,  toward  the  spectator,  but 
with  her  lovely,  pensive  face  turned  over  the  left 
shoulder  to  greet  the  angel;  the  latter,  apparently  a 
girl-child  of  twelve,  has  just  alighted  with  outspread 
wings,  bearing  the  lily  in  her  left  hand  and  raising  the 
right  hand  in  blessing;  behind  her  stretches  darkly 
afar  a  tempestuous  scene  of  rugged  mountains  and 
rolling  clouds,  through  which  bursts  from  heaven  a 
stream  of  light,  following  the  holy  messenger.  This 
is  very  grand,  and  would  be  entirely  so  but  for  the 
presence  of  one  contrasting,  even  laughable  figure:  it 
i>  a  little,  wizened  old  man,  wrapped  in  a  cloak  and 
hood,  crouching  and  peering  round  the  rear  corner  of 


TREYISO  191 

the  marble  wall  upon  the  left,  —  of  course,  the  donor, 
but  a  more  ridiculous  donor  never  obtruded  himself 
upon  holy  personages. 

A  painted  terra-cotta  bust  of  this  wealthy  Trevisan, 
Broccardo  Malchiostro,  —  who  provided  the  money 
for  the  building  and  adornment  of  the  chapel,  and 
after  whom  it  is  therefore  named,  —  stands  at  one 
side;  it  is  of  about  the  same  date,  1520,  as  the  pict- 
ure which  he  procured  from  Titian.  At  the  same  time 
he  induced  Pordenone  to  aid  in  the  decoration;  who 
thereupon,  with  the  assistance  of  his  chief  pupil, 
Pompon  io  Amaltco,  placed  a  series  of  frescoes  upon 
the  walls  and  cupola,  —  the  Salutation  and  the 
Adoration  of  the  Magi,  below,  and  a  heavenly  vision 
of  the  Eternal  Father  surrounded  by  angels,  overhead. 
Though  formerly,  and  doubtless  justly,  considered  of 
great  worth,  these  have  been  so  damaged  during  the 
centuries  that  they  now  attract  little  notice. — 
Near  by,  on  the  left  wall  of  the  antechapel,  is  a  fres- 
coed Madonna  of  1487,  —  a  specimen  of  the  work  of 
Girolamo  da  T revise 

Just  off  this  chapel  is  the  sacristy,  in  which  I  was 
shown  another  canvas  by  Bordone  and  a  picture  of  the 
original,  Gothic  Duomo.  In  the  handsome  Cappella 
del  Sagramento,  to  the  left  of  the  choir,  constructed 
by  Lorenzo  and  Battista  Brcgni,  the  altar  consists  of 
an  elegant  tabernacle  of  marble,  —  acinqucccnto  monu- 
ment to  Bishop  Zanotti,  covered  with  small  bronze 
figures  of  saints  and  putti,  and  adorned,  in  front,  with 
bronze  plates  bearing  New  Testamenl  scenes  in  relief. 
By  some  i  his  masterpiece  is  said  to  l»<v  the  work  of  the 
Lombardi;  by  others,  of  the  brothers  Bregni.1  To  the 

1    According  to    Mr.  Perkins  h'n  liis  Italian  Sculptors)  tliis  was  unques- 

tional.lv  done  by  Pietro  Lombardi.    "The  ornamental  marblework  upon 
the  tomb,"  he  lays,  "would  !>'■  alone  sufficienl  to  establish  the  sculptor's 


L92  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

right  of  it  are  two  niches  in  the  wall,  containing  angels 
by  Sansovino. 

In  the  left  aisle,  third  chapel,  I  found  the  church's 
third  treasure,  a  once  delightfully  colored  group  of 
three  saints  and  a  donor,  by  Bissolo,1  graceful,  quiet, 
and  softly,  charmingly  pietistic.  In  the  second  chapel 
was  still  another  Bordone,  —  S.  Lorenzo  with  four 
other  saints,  of  fine,  warm,  dark  tone  and  atmosphere, 
and  considerable  attractiveness.  The  first  chapel  held 
a  very  excellent  modern  work,  of  St.  Francis  raising 
the  dead. 

Leaving  the  Duomo,  I  strolled  away  down  the  con- 
tinuation of  Via  Calmaggiore,  known  as  Via  Canova; 
and  found  what  I  was  seeking  a  few  paces  on  the  right, 
—  the  house  of  Giuseppe  Olivi.  This  was  the  patriot 
who,  being  podestd  of  Treviso  when  the  rising  of  1848 
broke  out,  called  all  the  people  together  here  before 
his  dwelling,  and  addressing  them  amidst  intense  ex- 
citement, proclaimed  the  end  of  the  Austrian  domin- 
ion; a  provisional  government  was  immediately 
formed,  of  which  Olivi  was  elected  president;  and  with 
much  wisdom  he  governed  the  town,  defending  it 
bravely  against  the  Austrian  bombardment  and  attacks 
until  they  succumbed  to  superior  numbers.  The  house 
was  a  dainty,  but  not  remarkable,  Renaissance  struc- 
ture, with  a  long  balcony  across  the  upper  story  and  a 
tablet  to  the  patriot's  memory;  as  I  gazed  at  the  bal- 
cony, the  figures  that  stood  upon  it  on  that  memorable 
day  seemed  to  live  again,  and  the  street  to  surge  with 

reputation.  Its  most  remarkable  feature  is  an  exquisite  sculptured 
frieze,  which  seems  to  have  been  worked  out  with  a  needle  rather  than 
with  a  chisel,  —  finely  and  delicately  as  it  is  wrought." 

1  Francesco  Bissolo  was  a  native  of  Treviso,  who  studied  his  art  under 
Giovanni  Bellini,  but  soon  threw  off  all  the  constraints  of  the  Bellini  man- 
ner, developing  a  strong  individual  style,  of  much  beauty  in  the  forms  and 
coloring. 


TREVISO  193 

that  wildly  excited  multitude,  till  I  could  begin  to  real- 
ize the  passions  of  the  time. 

Returning  to  the  piazza,  I  looked  back  down  Via 
Calmaggiore  at  the  picture  which  was  made  by  its  old 
houses  opposite  the  Baptistery,  —  dwellings  from  the 
earliest  medieval  times,  such  as  are  still  found  in  Tre- 
viso  by  the  dozen,  with  first  floors  projecting  widely 
over  the  walk  on  massive  beams  ;  and  from  one  of  their 
little  casements  leaned  a  figure  belonging  to  the  same 
epoch, —  a  maiden  in  quaint  bodice  of  flaring  red,  with 
a  crimson  cap  upon  her  ebon  hair. 

There  are  two  interesting  walks  to  be  taken  from 
this  piazza,  and  as  I  gazed  I  debated  them  in  mind, 
ending  by  taking  the  Via  Cornarotta  which  leads 
northeast  from  the  side  of  the  frescoed  house.  It 
proved  a  narrow,  quaint  way,  with  an  out-of-the- 
world,  forgotten  air,  shadowed  by  old  crumbling  pal- 
aces that  looked  deserted.  Two  of  these  were  of  at- 
tractive Renaissance  lines;  another  had  a  second  story 
projecting  far  over  the  street,  countless  years  showing 
in  every  beam. 

In  about  two  hundred  vards  I  came  to  the  Muni- 
cipio,  at  the  angle  of  a  cross-street,  —  a  good  modern 
building,  but  strangely  located,  in  this  quiet  quarter. 
Next  it  was  the  most  curious  old  dwelling  yet  discov- 
ered, with  ground-floor  windows  of  little,  heavily  barred 
slits,  like  a  prison;  and  opposite  this  were  more  houses 
with  the  ancient  projecting  floors.  Southward  this 
Via  del  Mtinicipio  would  lead  me  directly  to  the  Pre- 
fettura;  but  I  turned  northward  upon  it,  across  the 
long,  spacious  Piazza  dei  Fillipini  (wherever  got  they 
that  Dame?)  to  the  ramparts  <>i'  the  city,  looming 
mighty  now  before  me.1  Below  the  great  embankment 

1  These  were  constructed  near  tin-  end  <>f  the  qvattroottiio  by  the  great 
Veronese  architei  t,  Pra  Giocondo;  and  earned  their  fame  by  resisting  many 

a  fierce  assault  and  bombarding  ^'u-^v. 


194  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

ran  a  street,  the  Via  delle  Mura,  outlining  its  massive 
hulk  indefinitely  to  west  and  east;  by  a  path  I  mounted 
to  its  broad  top,  planted  now  with  rows  of  shade  trees, 
under  which  ran  the  graveled  promenade  that  is  the 
principal  walk  of  the  modern  citizens.  The  reason  for 
its  popularity  was  evident  at  once;  for  over  the  brick 
parapet  I  saw  the  stupendous  Alps  soaring  near  at 
hand,  like  a  gigantic,  precipitous,  and  serrated  wall  — 
rising  here  quickly  to  far  elevations  with  few  interpos- 
ing foothills;  over  the  shoulders  of  the  foremost  were 
thrust  glittering  snow-peaks,  and  to  the  foot  of  the 
rocky  wall  swept  the  fertile  plain,  beautiful  with  woods 
and  grain-fields  and  shining  villas. 

From  out  this  plain  came  pouring  the  stream  of  the 
Botteniga,  filling  the  moat  beneath  my  feet,  but  mostly 
plunging  underneath  the  wall,  to  reappear  upon  the 
inner  side  divided  into  three  or  four  branches.  This 
was  just  to  the  right  of  where  I  had  mounted;  and  on 
walking  to  the  spot  I  saw  between  two  of  the  radiating 
arms  a  delightful  rustic  islet,  piled  with  rough  cement 
blocks  into  a  tiny  hill,  atop  which  sat  a  summer- 
house  overgrown  with  creepers.  A  lovely  scene,  of  a 
kind  most  unexpected.  It  was  attached  to  a  neighboring 
shady  garden  by  a  rustic  foot-bridge;  and  beyond  it 
the  swift  waters  rushed  on  diversely  between  the  backs 
of  buildings  and  other  gardens,  till  lost  to  sight. 

Adjacent  to  the  stream  without  the  wall  was  some- 
thing still  more  unusual  and  surprising:  a  modern  city 
suburb  of  the  upper  class,  the  first  one  I  had  yet 
found,  consisting'  of  a  road  lined  with  very  recent, 
ornate  dwellings,  separated  amongst  lawns  and  mead- 
ows. The  North  Italians  have  at  last  discovered, 
then,  the  joys  of  having  one's  own  house,  in  rural 
surroundings;  but  as  I  gazed,  I  saw,  alas!  that  they 
have  not  yet  discovered  the  veranda,  —  that  which 


rra1 


'  "  *  Js 


i  OXEGLIANO.    GATEWAY   TO   OLD  TOAVX.  —  CASTLE   HILL  IN 

BACKGROUND. 


[  i:i.\  I-'  i      ri  \//\    DEI    SIGXORI. 


TREVISO  195 

gives  rural  life  most  of  its  charm.  These  brand-new 
villas  were  so  extraordinary  in  design  and  ornamenta- 
tion, so  exemplary  of  the  awfully  misguided  taste  of 
the  modern  Italians,  that  they  were  worth  walking 
miles  to  see;  such  a  nameless  patchwork  of  walls, 
pavilions,  recesses,  chimneys,  flat  roofs,  pent-roofs, 
archways,  mansards,  —  in  no  style  nor  method  ever 
known  to  man,  with  brick  here  and  stone  there,  plain 
stucco  here  and  rough  stucco  there,  glaring  each  in 
half  a  dozen  frightful,  discordant  colors,  daubed  from 
eaves  to  basement  with  every  sort  of  discordant  orna- 
ment (forgive  the  name!),  —  they  were  an  abominable 
concatenation  that  would  shake  the  nerves.  To  cap 
the  climax,  upon  their  surrounding  lawns  was  not  one 
sheltering  tree,  nor  the  sign  of  one  planted;  they 
stood  forth  naked  in  all  their  lurid  pride.  I  turned 
my  head  and  hurried  eastward  along  the  rampart, 
hoping  that  living  next  to  Nature  will  yet  bring  them 
her  quiet  harmony. 

Some  way  beyond  the  river  I  went  down  the  first 
street  to  the  south,  and  shortly,  on  a  left-hand  turn- 
ing, came  to  the  interesting  little  Church  of  S.  Maria 
Maddalena,  of  the  sixteenth  century.  The  edifice 
itself  is  in  no  way  remarkable,  but  within  it  are  sev- 
eral good  paintings  of  Paolo  Veronese.  Four  of  them 
are  upon  the  side  walls,  large  tableaux  representing 
the  Resurrection  of  Lazarus,  the  Magdalen  at  Christ's 
feel ,  I  be  Sacrifice  of  Abraham,  and  the  Expulsion  from 
the  Garden  of  Eden;  not  being  in  Paolo's  last,  over- 
crowded, over-ornamented  style,  I  enjoyed  much  their 
rich  tone,  strong  modeling,  and  brilliant  colors.  Over 
the  high-altar  is  another,  and  over  the  altar  to  the 
left  of  the  choir,  the  best  of  them  all,  —  one  of  those 
smaller  crucifixion  scenes  which  that  master  painted 
so  tenderly,  with   the  Madonna  lying  fainting  at  the 


106  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Cross's  foot,  supported  by  other  female  saints,  and 
Over  all  the  scene  a  sombrous,  awesome,  murky  atmo- 
sphere. There  is  another,  almost  identical  with  this 
canvas,  in  the  Church  of  S.  Sebastiano  at  Venice. 
Nearly  as  much  as  the  paintings  did  I  enjoy  the  con- 
versation of  the  parroco,  who  showed  me  them,  —  a 
thorough  Italian  gentleman,  of  erudition  and  most 
engaging  manners. 

From  the  church  I  stepped  back  to  the  rampart,  and 
followed  it  again  to  the  main  northern  gateway,  near 
its  eastern  end,  —  the  Porta  S.  Toma,  renamed  lately 
after  Mazzini.  This  is  one  of  the  handsomest  city 
gates  in  North  Italy;  it  is  a  great,  ponderous,  square 
structure,  rising  athwart  the  wall,  stuccoed  except 
upon  its  outer  face,  and  capped  by  a  flat  dome  with 
a  marble  statue  of  St.  Paul.  In  the  middle  of  its  long, 
dark  passage  I  found  high  upon  the  left  wall  a  little 
shrine  of  extraordinary  beauty,  —  a  marble  high-relief 
of  the  Madonna  and  Child  adored  by  warriors  and  an- 
gels, clearly  a  Renaissance  work  of  the  best  period, 
and  of  very  exceptional  grace  and  expressiveness.  It 
is  unfortunate  that  such  a  gem  should  be  so  little 
known,  and  its  author  also.  Without  the  passage 
there  was  a  fine  stone  bridge  crossing  the  wide  moat, 
from  which  a  clear  view  was  commanded  of  the  gate's 
splendid  facade;  it  reminded  me  of  the  ornamentation 
upon  the  Renaissance  court-facade  of  the  Palace  of 
the  Doges,  —  the  six  Corinthian  marble  columns, 
three  on  each  side  of  the  archway,  rising  from  pedes- 
tals, carved  with  St.  Mark's  Lion  in  relief,  to  rect- 
angular projections  of  the  entablature,  —  the  elabo- 
rately relieved  panels  between  them,  cut  with  shields 
and  piles  of  arms,  and  the  great  winged  lion  with  his 
gospel,  glowering  from  atop  the  arch,  above  the  en- 
graved date  of  mdxviii. 


TREVISO  197 

Over  the  bridge  was  passing  each  way  a  continual 
procession  of  contadini,  afoot  or  mule-back,  or  driving 
two- wheeled  carts;  and  as  I  watched,  I  thought  of 
how  many,  many  generations  that  same  march  of 
travel  had  been  traversing  this  same  gate,  passing  on 
up  that  white  road  to  Germany  and  Austria,  Dalma- 
tia,  and  Byzantium.  I  thought  of  Titian  riding 
through  the  archway  on  his  steady  old  nag,  a  stately 
picture  in  his  flowing  white  beard  and  velvet  gown  and 
cap,  jogging  on  toward  his  native  mountains  and  early 
friends;  and  the  dashing  Pordenone  spurring  through 
on  his  fiery  steed,  on  a  visit  to  dazzle  his  townspeople 
with  his  honors  and  jeweled  finery. 

In  this  eastern  quarter  of  Treviso  beyond  the  Bot- 
teniga,  there  is  but  one  more  object  of  general  inter- 
est, —  the  Church  of  S.  Maria  Maggiore,  toward  the 
southeastern  corner.  I  went  directly  down  to  it  now 
by  the  Borgo  Mazzini,  which  soon  opened  into  the 
largest  piazza  of  this  city  of  large  spaces,  yclept  del 
Mercato;  —  and  from  its  southern  end,  still  down,  by 
Via  Stangade,  in  which  I  passed  on  the  left  the  notice- 
able Casa  Lezze  Casellati,  —  more  completely  cov- 
ered, with  better  preserved  frescoes,  than  any  other  I 
had  seen.  Unfortunately,  they  were  not  good  frescoes; 
yet  the  house  as  a  whole  was  very  striking,  —  its 
facade  ruddy  with  the  flames  of  Troy,  from  which 
jEneas  was  just  stalking  forth  with  Anchises  on  his 
back. 

Shortly  beyond  I  came  to  S.  Maria  Maggiore,  a 
huge  church,  with  a  curious,  cream-colored,  stucco 
front,  pierced  by  three  round  and  two  long,  square- 
headed  windows,  framed  by  brown  coda  mouldings; 
beside  ii  stood  another  ponderous  unfinished  campanile, 
—  the  medieval  Italians  were  ever  ambitious  beyond 
their  powers.    The  spacious,  dusky  interior  contained 


198  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

several  objeU  d*art  of  interest:  over  the  entrance  door, 
a  painting  by  Palma  Giovane,  —  the  Descent  from 
the  ( Jross;  upon  the  high-altar,  a  richly  colored  pietis- 
t it-  canvas,  attributed  to  Palma  Vecchio;  off  the  left 
aisle,  a  semicircular  chapel,  filled  with  many  decadent 
frescoes  l>y  Jacopo  Laura  in  1590;  and,  principally,  the 
ornate  Renaissance  tomb  of  the  condottiere  Mercurio 
Bua,  —  who,  like  most  of  them,  fought  for  Venice. 
This  monument  is  a  large  marble  slab  against  the  left 
wall,  cut  with  three  scenes  in  high-relief,  and  seven 
charming  niches  holding  maidens  with  pitchers  and 
rounded  putti;  —  all  by  Bambaja,  of  the  Milanese 
school  (1480-1548).  It  is  attractive  in  many  respects, 
though  showing  evidence  of  the  first  decadence. 

Across  the  bare,  sunny  piazza  before  this  church  I 
noticed  a  quaint  house  of  the  trecento,  well  preserved, 
and  typical  of  the  Gothic  secular  style  in  its  doors 
and  windows  of  pointed  arches,  and  other  picturesque 
details.  Before  it  led  the  Via  Carlo  Alberto  northwest, 
—  one  of  the  very  few  instances  in  which  I  have  found 
a  street  named  after  that  noble,  unfortunate  initiator 
of  Italian  unity;  and  this  paucity  I  think  very  strange. 
It  took  me  to  the  city  post-office,  where  I  crossed  the 
main  arm  of  the  Botteniga  —  with  a  view  of  pictur- 
esque old  mills  amidst  the  current  —  to  the  Piazza  and 
church  of  S.  Leonardo,  shortly  east  of  the  central 
piazza.  The  building  is  insignificant;  but  on  the  right 
wall  of  its  nave  I  saw  a  pleasing  old  painting  of  the 
Madonna  and  Child,  accredited  to  Giovanni  Bellini, 
and  certainly  much  in  his  style. 

Just  a  block  south  of  this  piazza  lies  the  great  civic 
hospital  of  Treviso,  occupying  an  enormous  quad- 
rangle between  four  streets,  —  one  of  the  largest  and 
best  institutions  of  that  kind  in  Italy,  the  land  of 
hospitals;  it  was  founded  in  1332,  and  has  been  re- 


TREVISO  199 

peatedly  enlarged,  until  it  can,  I  believe,  accommo- 
date nearly  a  thousand  patients.  I  looked  through  the 
windows  at  the  rows  of  clean  little  rooms,  shining  with 
white  walls  and  whiter  linen,  and  thought  what  a  mar- 
velous godsend  it  must  be  to  the  poor  of  this  locality. 
The  nursing  sisters  completed  the  scene,  with  their 
immaculate  caps  and  sweet,  unselfish  faces. 

Shortly  to  the  west  of  this  piazza,  upon  a  narrow 
way,  I  found  the  strange  decaying  loggia,  dating  as  far 
back  as  1195,  which  they  call  the  Loggia  dei  Cavalieri, 
because  it  originally  served  as  an  assembly-place  for 
the  nobles.  Square  in  shape,  but  one  lofty  story  in 
height,  it  has  five  round  arches  on  each  side,  supported 
on  marble  pillars;  being  extraordinarily  well  propor- 
tioned and  harmonious  for  a  building  of  that  so-called 
dark  age,  and  much  like  a  Renaissance  structure,  — 
so  much  so  as  to  make  one  realize  that  the  classic  style 
had  never  died  out  entirely.  Within  there  are  said  to 
be  fragments  of  very  early  frescoes;  but  I  could  not 
see  them,  for  the  building  has  become  so  tottering  that 
the  authorities  have  boarded  it  up  entirely.  Adjacent 
to  it  is  the  small  Piazza  delle  Erbe,  usually  filled  with 
fruit  and  vegetable  stalls,  and  littered  with  their 
refuse;  from  which  it  is  but  a  step  northwestward  to 
the  rear  of  the  Prefettura.  But  I  followed  southwest 
the  Via  Umberto,  upon  which  the  Loggia  faces,  until 
it  brought  me  to  the  Via  Vittorio  Emanuele  just 
above  the  hotel,  —  completing  thus  my  first  giro 
through  Treviso. 

In  the  lit  lie  southeast  section  of  the  original  town, 
a  triangular  space  between  Via  Umberto  and  the  main 
branches  of  the  Sile  and  Botteniga,  there  are  several 
objects  of  some  interest,  which  I  hunted  up  one  after- 
noon. Firstly,  I  found  a  small  three-sided  piazza  in  the 
seel  ion's  western  angle,  near  the  hotel,  fronted  by  two 


200  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

largo  palaces  and  the  Church  of  S.  Andrea,  the  latter 
standing  upon  the  highest  point  in  the  city;  within  it 
hang  two  attractive  paintings,  —  a  picture  of  St. 
Andrew  by  Bevilacqua,  over  the  high-altar,  and  one  of 
Giovanni  Bellini's  glorious  golden  Madonnas,  with  S. 
Lucia  and  S.  Crisostomo. 

Opposite  on  the  west  stands  the  Renaissance  palace 
of  Count  degli  Azzoni,  huge  and  imposing,  once  beauti- 
fied by  frescoes  now  vanished,  with  a  spacious  orna- 
mental cortile;  on  the  south  rises  the  residence  of  the 
Conti  d'  Onigo,  renowned  for  the  vast  and  beautiful 
garden  that  stretches  clear  to  the  Sile,  resplendent 
with  statues,  vases,  grottoes,  and  kiosks,  and  stretching 
over  the  water  the  boughs  of  its  stately  trees.  There 
seems  an  unusual  darkness  in  the  deep  shade  of  that 
grassy  bank,  and  well  may  it  be;  for  it  was  the  scene, 
in  1903,  of  the  tragedy  of  self-destruction  that  cut  off 
the  last  scion  of  that  famous  family,  —  a  sad  end  to 
its  centuries  of  grandeur. 

Upon  the  Via  Regina,  —  which  divides  this  section, 
leading  from  the  Piazza  dei  Signori  straight  south- 
easterly to  the  middle  bridge  over  the  Sile,  —  I  found 
an  exceptionally  interesting  Renaissance  dwelling, 
well  down  on  the  east  side,  near  the  river,  adorned 
with  four  stories  of  charming  windows  and  other  pleas- 
ant details,  besides  remnants  of  frescoing  in  graceful 
designs;  and  on  reaching  the  immense  civic  hospital 
shortly  to  east  of  it,  I  discovered  a  way  down  its  left 
flank  to  the  river,  that  was  a  vista  lifted  bodily  from 
the  twelfth  century.  It  could  not  have  been  touched 
for  hundreds  of  years.  So  narrow  that  I  could  almost 
reach  from  wall  to  wall,  rudely  paved  and  filthy,  it 
was  covered  and  darkened  by  the  far  protruding  first 
floors  of  a  long  row  of  ancient  houses  which  thrust 
out  decaying  beams  from  their  crumbling  walls.  Walk- 


TREVTSO  201 

ing  through  this  medieval,  dusky  passage,  past  little 
iron-studded  doors  and  slit,  prison-like  windows,  I 
almost  expected  to  see  a  bravo  step  out  before  me 
with  cloak,  gauntlet,  and  dagger.  The  contrast  at  its 
end  was  all  the  greater,  when  I  emerged  suddenly  upon 
the  broad]  sunny  quay  and  splashing  blue  water  of  the 
Sile,  which  rushed  over  a  weir  into  glistening  white 
foam.  Away  to  the  west  stretched  the  green  line  of 
luxuriant  maple  trees  upon  its  farther  bank,  to  where 
the  vista  was  arched  by  a  roseate  gilded  bow  from  the 
vanished  sun;  immediately  on  the  left  the  main  arm  of 
the  Botteniga  came  roaring  in,  under  the  broad  stone 
arches  of  the  quay;  and  the  joined  waters  soon  turned 
at  right  angles  to  the  south,  sweeping  on  between  rows 
of  foliage.  Such  was  their  confluence,  where  Dante 
once  lingered  in  admiration. 

I  strolled  upon  the  bridged  embankment  over  the 
junction,  and  there,  as  Italy  never  fails  in  gentle  feel- 
ings, stood  midway  over  the  torrent  a  tasteful  monu- 
ment in  marble:  no  statuesque  form,  but  a  simple 
medallion  on  the  face  of  a  pyramid,  graved  with  the 
poet's  laureled  head  in  profile;  and  under  that,  the 
words  that  he  wrote  in  memory  of  this  spot,  in  canto 
ix  of  the  immortal  Paradiso:  — 

E  dove  Sile  e  Cagnan  s'accompagna  — 

—  Ah,  that  great,  unfortunate  wanderer  from  realm  to 

realm,  with  no  home  to  lay  his  head,  exiled  from  all  he 

loved   so   tenderly,  --  as  I   thoughl    of   him   standing 

melancholy  on  this  spot,  Rossetti's  lines  came  to  my 

mind:  — 

—  Arriving  only  to  depart, 
Prom  court  t<>  court,  from  land  to  land, 
Like  name  within  the  naked  band 
I  [j    body  bore  bu  burning  beart, 
Thai  still  on  Florence  itrove  t<>  bring 
<  iod*a  fire  for  a  burnt  offering. 


SOS  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

I  walked  on  farther,  down  the  stream  in  the  dreamy 
sunset  glow,  till,  traversing  the  ramparts  and  joining 
its  southern  arm,  it  swept  united  eastward  along  the 
base  of  the  city  wall.  Here  was  a  lovely  spot,  with 
gardens  upon  one  side  trailing  over  the  battlements, 
and  woods  of  thick  trees  upon  the  other,  as  far  as  the 
huge  round  bastion  at  the  town's  southeastern  corner; 
peaceful  now  at  eventide  with  strolling  couples,  where 
"swords  once  flashed  and  arrows  flew,  and  lifeblood 
stained  the  water  another  hue." 

One  morning  I  went  to  the  Duomo  by  a  shorter, 
directer  route  than  that  through  the  central  piazza, 
by  little  streets  west  of  Via  Cahnaggiore  and  parallel 
with  it.  I  passed  by  the  small  church  of  S.  Gregorio, 
near  the  piazza,  insignificant  in  design  as  well  as  size; 
but  on  glancing  over  it  found  an  excellent  work  of 
Palma  Giovane.  In  Italy  no  sod  is  too  poor  to  hide  a 
violet.  Shortly  beyond  I  found  a  thing  still  more 
pleasing,  —  a  splendid  Gothic  palace,  rising  upon  a 
noble  arcade  of  pointed  arches,  with  exquisite  Gothic 
windows  and  other  details.  This  was  hidden  in  a  byway 
a  block  south  of  the  retired  Piazza  Pola ;  surround- 
ing  which,  and  all  about  the  neighborhood,  I  found  a 
number  of  interesting  old  houses,  of  different  styles. 
The  Gothic  dwellings  are  the  rarest  in  Treviso,  but 
here  and  there  one  is  unexpectedly  discovered,  — 
usually  arcaded  upon  the  ground  story,  of  bricks  with 
handsome  cotta  plaques  adorning  the  quoins,  some- 
times on  primitive  pillars,  sometimes  on  columns  of 
shining  marble.  That  fine  Lombard  cotta-work  would 
beautify  the  homeliest  building. 

From  the  wTest  corner  of  the  Piazza  Pola  one  of  the 
oldest  streets  of  the  city  runs  southwestward,  a  pic- 
turesque vista  of  ruinous  two-story  houses  with  wide- 
projecting  floors.    Beyond  this  a  very  narrow,  dark 


TREVISO  203 

way  brought  me  to  the  apse  of  the  Cathedral,  looming 
overhead  like  a  colossus;  and  I  circled  round  it  through 
one  of  those  curious  hidden  areas  of  Italian  cities, 
devoted  to  the  lowest  class  of  wineshops  and  houses. 
Here  in  the  very  shadow  of  the  Duorao  were  low  dark 
places  filled  with  tuns  and  barrels,  and  bulging  them 
upon  the  area,  with  dirty  tables,  rush-seated  chairs, 
and  emptied  bottles,  —  noisy  all  the  nights,  deserted 
at  this  hour  but  for  one  or  two  lazy,  sleeping  tatter- 
demalions. 

I  came  out  upon  the  Piazza  del  Duomo,  and  took 
the  Via  Canova  northwest,  past  Olivi's  house.  It  led 
me  to  the  Borgo  Cavour,  Treviso's  broadest  street, 
running  to  the  only  western  gateway,  Porta  Cavour, 
which  pierces  the  ramparts  near  the  city's  northwest 
corner.  Here  were  fresh,  dignified,  modern  buildings, 
a  church,  —  S.  Agnese,  —  and  opposite  the  latter,  on 
the  right,  the  extensive  edifices  of  the  Biblioteca  and 
Museo  Comunale.  The  former  is  noted  for  its  collec- 
tion of  valuable  manuscripts.  In  the  latter  was  for- 
merly kept  the  city's  collection  of  paintings,  now  re- 
moved to  the  palace  on  the  central  piazza.  After  much 
hammering,  I  routed  out  a  spectacled  old  gentleman  in 
knee-breeches,  who  confessed  himself  to  be  a  professor 
of  art,  and  I  he  guardian  of  the  place,  but  asserted  that 
there  was  nothing  now  to  be  seen  here,  and  nobody 
ever  came  to  see  it.  I  insisted, however,  until  he  turned 
me  over  to  his  good  dame,  with  a  sigh,  and  a  bunch  of 
enormous  rusty  keys. 

She  conducted  me  back  through  the  passage,  to 
several  rooms  packed  and  littered  with  ancient  and 
medieval  bits  of  sculpture  and  architecture,  which  a 
couple  df  wood-turners  were  now  using  as  a  workshop. 
I  poked  aboul  through  the  huge,  heterogeneous,  dis- 
orderly mass,  unearthing  a  number  of  things  of  con- 


•jot  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

siderable  interest,  including  one  or  two  medieval  stone 
Madonnas  of  quaint  grace.  Then  my  conductress  took 
me  upstairs,  and  unlocked  one  forgotten  cobwebbed 
room  after  another,  till  a  full  score  of  them  stood  open 
in  dust  and  decay  to  my  astonished  eyes. 

Here  were  old  paintings,  etchings,  engravings,  sculp- 
tures in  marble,  bronze,  porcelain  and  terra-cotta, 
Delft  ware,  Gubbio  ware,  faence,  majolica,  carvings 
in  ivory  and  wood,  textile  fabrics  of  every  sort  and 
costumes  of  every  age,  laces, miniatures,  gems, cameos, 
manuscripts  plain  and  illuminated,  Murano  glass, 
German  stained  glass,  spinets,  harpsichords,  lutes, 
psalteries,  medieval  arms  and  armor,  tapestries,  em- 
broideries, churchly  vestments,  candelabra,  furniture 
of  many  epochs,  —  in  a  word,  every  sort  of  human 
instrument  or  manufacture,  possessing  artistic  merit 
or  historical  association,  produced  or  used  during  the 
past  ten  centuries.  All  these  were  scattered  through 
the  rooms  and  corridors  without  order  or  arrangement, 
piled  in  heaps,  thrust  in  corners,  spread  behind  glass 
cases,  hanging  upon  the  walls,  and  all  alike  covered 
with  the  dust  and  cobwebs  of  years.  It  was  a  gold- 
mine of  the  countless  artistic  treasures  and  produc- 
tions of  the  long-past  generations.  Here  were  all  the 
things  that  once  beautified  their  castles  and  medieval 
houses,  —  that  sprang  into  joyous  life  in  the  glamour  of 
the  Renaissance,  —  that  they  used  and  lived  with  in 
those  strange,  varied  ages.  Digging  here,  it  was  easy  to 
reconstruct  in  mind  a  medieval  household,  or  a  palace 
of  the  cinquecento,  with  these  very  articles  that  had 
played  such  a  part,  —  even  to  the  gowns,  the  laces, 
and  silken  coats  of  the  human  beings  that  had  dwelt 
amongst  them. 

There  was  an  intimacy  about  these  thousands  of 
orderless  relics,  cast  thus  on  one  side  as  if  used  but 


TREVISO  205 

yesterday,  —  a  lack  of  formality  and  tagged  arrange- 
ment, of  removal  to  a  distance  in  stiff  rows  and  cate- 
gories, —  that  took  me  into  those  bygone  days,  revivi- 
fied for  me  their  life  and  dwellings,  and  warmed  my 
heart  towards  those  very  human  people  of  long-past 
ages,  in  a  way  that  no  conventional  museum  nor  expo- 
sition had  ever  succeeded  in  doing.  It  seemed  to  me 
like  the  garret  of  a  great  house,  to  which  its  inmates 
had  just  been  casting  their  worn-out  finery;  and  that 
I  should  find  them  all  alive  again  on  descending  the 
stairs,  walking  about  in  costumes  and  amongst  furn- 
ishings like  these  thrown  aside.  It  was  a  unique  ex- 
perience, a  unique  opportunity,  in  this  modern  world 
with  its  sad,  eternal  sameness;  which  —  alas  —  can 
no  longer  be  repeated  at  this  spot.  For  the  good  dame 
informed  me  that  they  were  even  now  at  work  classi- 
fying and  arranging  this  heterogeneous  mass,  to  shape 
it  into  a  fine  museum  with  formal  rooms  and  ordered 
cases;  —  another  display  to  chill  the  heart  and  under- 
standing. 

Chief  of  all  the  treasures  which  this  mine  produced 
for  me  were  a  score  of  extraordinary  trecento  frescoes, 
that  had  been  transferred  bodily  on  strips  of  plaster 
from  an  ancient  church  now  turned  into  a  barrack. 
They  hung  upon  the  walls  of  the  first  long  hall  I  en- 
tered, illumining  its  dusty  shade  with  their  still  bright 
hues,  in  broad,  soft  masses;  and  their  lovely,  rounded 
forms,  with  charming  eyes,  smiled  at  me  from  glowing 
medieval  groups,  -  feminine  saints  performing  mira- 
cles, Or  going  to  their  execution.  But  that  which  made 
me  stop  lo  consider  was  their  power  of  execution,  the 
moulding  of  those  well-drawn  figures,  the  way  in 
which  they  stood  forth  from  the  level  real  and  tangible, 
—  a  wonderful  ability  in  a  painter  of  the  fourteenth 
century.     There  were   few    indeed,   closely   following 


206  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Giotto,  who  could  loam  that  power.  And  these  strong 
figures  were  naturally  yet  gracefully  arranged,  in 
compositions  of  dramatic  vigor,  speaking  their  parts 
with  elevated  sincerity  and  effect.  Who  could  this 
painter  be?  I  had  never  seen  his  work  before.  The 
woman  also  did  not  know.  But  when  we  descended, 
the  professor  in  knee-breeches  answered  me,  with  a 
shout  of  amazement,  —  "  Tommaso  da  Modena!'" 

Why,  of  course;  who  else  could  it  have  been?  But 
if  Tommaso  possessed  such  powers  as  these,  it  is  a 
pity  they  are  not  more  widely  known.  I  decided  to  re- 
pair at  once  to  inspect  his  other  works,  at  the  great 
Dominican  Church  of  S.  Niccolo. 

Before  leaving  the  Museum  buildings  I  looked  out 
of  a  rear  window  at  the  extensive  stretch  of  woodland 
behind  them.  Here,  in  the  very  northwest  corner  of 
the  city,  was  a  wide  area  of  groves  and  gardens,  once 
the  private  grounds  of  nobles,  which  the  Signory  were 
now  converting,  with  the  aid  of  paths  and  shrubbery, 
into  an  attractive  public  park.  When  finished,  it  will 
be  an  addition  to  Treviso's  beauties  that  should  de- 
light any  visitor  from  the  North,  longing  for  the  shade 
and  coolness  of  his  native  wealds. 

S.  Niccolo,  really  the  principal  sight  of  the  city, 
stands  in  its  southwestern  corner,  approached  by  a 
long,  straight,  wide  thoroughfare  of  the  same  name, 
that  leads  directly  west  from  Via  Vittorio  Emanuele, 
shortly  below  the  hotel.  This  street  widens,  halfway, 
into  the  Piazza  Bressa;  and  upon  this  piazza's  north- 
ern side  I  found  the  town's  most  interesting  house: 
a  Renaissance  dwelling,  covered  upon  its  stuccoed 
facade  with  frescoes  of  extraordinary  preservation,  — 
frescoes  of  huge,  saintly  figures,  arrayed  in  the  long- 
hose  and  puffed  sleeves  of  the  middle  cinquecento,  — 
powerful,  well-moulded  figures  with  thick  necks,  glow- 


TREVISO  207 

ing  with  brilliant  colors,  —  the  figures  of  Pordenone. 
This  is  the  only  facade  remaining  to  us  of  the  several 
which  that  artist  painted  here,  —  and  one  of  the  very, 
very  few  remaining  anywhere  in  Italy  from  the  hand 
of  an  old  master  of  the  first  rank. 

As  far  again  beyond  this,  loomed  up  the  giant  struc- 
ture of  the  Dominican  church  upon  the  left;  it  is  a 
Gothic  edifice  of  the  beginning  of  the  trecento,— 
erected  under  the  direction  of  Pope  Benedict  XI,  who 
was  an  inmate  of  its  monastery,  —  and  has  been  for 
its  many  treasures  constituted  a  national  monument. 
Its  face  is  to  the  west,  its  left  side  towards  the  street. 
The  red  brick  exterior,  pierced  by  lancet  windows, 
presented  to  me  no  special  merit;  and  I  entered  by  the 
great  front  doorway,  as  the  sun  was  sinking  in  a  sea  of 
gold. 

Ah!  what  a  mighty,  dusk-laden  interior  was  this, 
soaring  on  colossal  white  pillars  to  indefinite  heights, 
traversed  by  slender  light-rays  from  the  lofty  windows, 
and  crowned  in  the  far  distance  by  a  glistening  altar 
under  a  curving  apse,  in  the  centre  of  which  glowed  a 
great  and  radiant  picture  from  a  golden  frame;  through 
the  chiaroscuro,  breathing  the  incense  of  centuries, 
filtered  softly,  sweetly,  the  old  hues  of  saintly  frescoes 
from  every  pillar  and  wall,  smiling  from  quaint  figures 
in  medieval  garb.  How  strange  was  this  effect,  —  to 
behold  on  each  large  white  column  a  form  of  heroic 
size,  faintly  lustrous,  livened  by  the  dusk,  martial  in 
mail  and  sword  or  holy  in  flowing  vestments;  while 
many  others  gazed  with  them  at  the  visitor  from  the 
wiills  of  the  stuccoed  aisles. 

Recovering  from  the  first  weird  sensation,  I  saw 
that  they  were  all,  or  nearly  all,  trecento  work;  the 
executors  bad  been  Tommasoda  Modena,  chiefly,  and 
several  fellow  artists;  those  of  Tommaso  being  clearly 


JOS  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

distinguished  by  their  superiority  of  drawing  and 
mouldingi  having  natural  rounded  faces  with  keen 
eyes  of  strong  expressiveness.  Especially  lovely  was 
his  St.  Agnes,  immediately  to  the  left,  with  the  tiny 
lamb  nestling  in  her  left  hand,  —  also  the  St.  Cather- 
ine, on  the  fourth  column  to  the  right.  Behind  the 
latter,  on  the  wall  of  the  right  aisle,  there  glowered 
suddenly  before  me  a  form  so  gigantic  and  monstrous 
as  to  take  my  breath  away,  —  a  bare-legged  Colossus, 
forty  feet  in  height,  strange  and  terrible  for  a  second 
in  the  masking  eventide.  But  it  was  only  a  fresco  of 
St.  Christopher,  painted  by  Antonio  da  Treviso  in 
1410,  —  perhaps  the  largest  painted  figure  in  exist- 
ence. 

The  noble  proportions  of  this  vast  edifice,  one  of 
the  few  grandest  Gothic  interiors  of  Italy,  struck  me 
with  a  keen  delight,  —  so  free  and  majestic  are  the 
lines.  Lofty,  striped,  pointed  arches  leap  from  one 
mighty  column  to  another,  and  rise  triumphally  before 
and  behind  the  choir,  whose  apse  is  luminous  with 
seven  tall  lancet  windows;  the  arched  roof  is  of  the 
wooden  construction  of  the  Eremetani  of  Padua,  soar- 
ing buoyantly  far  above  the  gleaming  marble  floor. 
No  chapel  recesses  break  the  sweeping  lines  of  the  con- 
fining walls;  but  little  altars  stand  against  them,  one 
in  each  bay,  under  its  two  lofty  windows. 

Over  the  main  doorway  I  saw  another  quaint  early 
fresco,  of  the  Annunciation;  the  great  church  is  a  gen- 
uine gallery  of  primitive  artists,  a  class  all  by  itself. 
But  I  went  on  to  the  later  paintings  around  the  apse. 
In  the  chapel  to  the  right  of  the  choir,  over  the  altar, 
is  the  famous  large  canvas  of  Sebastiano  del  Piombo, 
representing  the  risen  Christ  surrounded  by  the  twelve 
apostles,  all  standing,  and  St.  Thomas  putting  his 
fingers  to  the  wound  in  the  Saviour's  side;  while  under- 


TBEVISO.    A.VM'.M  lATloN.    (TIZIANO.) 


TREVISO  209 

neath  appear  the  half-figures  of  six  proud  Trevisans, 
priests  and  women.  It  is  a  splendid  work,  of  noble 
dignity  and  earnestness,  exceedingly  rich  in  tone  and 
coloring,  —  so  grand,  indeed,  that  many  insist  it  to 
be  a  production  of  Giovanni  Bellini.  Upon  the  walls 
of  this  chapel  are  other  frescoes  by  Tommaso  da 
Modena,  similar  in  style  and  merit  to  those  upon  the 
columns. 

On  entering  the  choir  my  heart  was  lifted  in  delight 
by  two  superb  products  of  the  Renaissance.  On  its 
left  wall  before  the  altar  stands  the  celebrated  tomb 
of  Count  Agostino  Onigo,  —  one  of  the  finest  accom- 
plishments, if  not  the  masterpiece,  of  Pietro  and 
Tullio  Lombardi:  two  beautiful  marble  sarcophagi, 
one  above  the  other,  both  exquisitely  enriched  by 
delicate  reliefs,  project  from  the  wall  within  a  large 
marble  oval,  —  the  lower  supported  by  two  heavy 
corbels,  the  upper  by  fanciful  lion's  claws  resting  on 
the  former;  the  lower  adorned  at  its  centre  and  angles 
with  three  lovely  putti  holding  horns  of  plenty,  and 
between  them,  two  wreaths  of  fruited  branches  con- 
taining fine  Roman  heads  in  profile;  the  upper  cut 
with  a  spread  eagle  in  centre,  and  round  about  it  the 
daintiest  possible  arabesques  of  convoluted  foliage. 
From  one  corbel  to  the  other,  another  garland,  pon- 
derously rich,  depends  in  a  semicircle,  enclosing  a 
porphyry  medallion  with  marble  wings;  and  on  the 
topof  all  stand  throe  striking  marble  forms:  the  Count- 
Sen;!  tor  in  the  middle,  stern  and  powerful,  with  his 
square,  clean-shaven  face  and  robe  of  honor,  —  two 
charming  little  pages  at  the  sides,  in  doublet,  long- 
hose  ;ind  flowing  CUrlfl,  each  holding  a  shield  with  the 
Onigo  lion  rampant,  each  a  perfecl  foil  to  the  dignity 
of  the  noble.  Hut  this  is  not  all:  for  around  the 
marble  ov;il  is  ;i    huge  frame  of  bright  arabesques  in 


>10  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

color,  and  at  its  foot  to  right  and  left,  two  splendid 
cinquecenio  warriors  in  glowing  finery,  so  naturally 
painted  that  they  stand  forth  tangible,  in  their 
haughty  pride.  By  many  this  frescoing  is  called  the 
work  of  Bellini;  but  more  likely  it  is  that  of  Jacopo 
de'  Barbari.  There  are  few  monuments  like  this,  — 
so  successful,  on  such  a  scale,  in  its  charming  combina- 
tion of  the  two  branches  of  art. 

The  other  masterpiece  here  is  that  great  picture 
which  glistens  down  the  nave  from  the  centre  of  the 
apse-wall,  high  above  and  behind  the  altar;  as  I 
stepped  nearer,  it  opened  upon  me  with  a  refulgent 
glory  almost  divine,  —  the  radiance  of  form  and  color 
characteristic  of  those  chefs  d'amvre  that  glorified  the 
Renaissance,  and  made  Italy  the  treasure-casket  of 
the  world.  Like  the  sunset  which  I  had  left  without, 
its  gorgeous  colors  burst  from  the  glowing  tone;  in 
a  celestial  atmosphere  the  Madonna  sat  enthroned, 
amidst  saintly  figures  of  monks  and  bishops,  of  bea- 
tific serenity.  Seldom  have  I  seen  a  more  perfect, 
clean-cut  execution  than  this,  which  caused  the  forms 
to  stand  forth  living  beings,  and  beings  of  superhuman 
beauty,  with  their  spiritual  faces  and  glossy  robes. 
Between  them,  on  a  velvet  carpet  over  marble  steps, 
reclined  a  flowing-haired  angel  of  celestial  loveliness, 
playing  softly  on  a  psaltery  with  rapt,  upturned  gaze; 
but  loveliest  of  all  was  the  sweet  Madonna,  over 
whose  gentle  head  rose  the  high,  ornate  back  of  the 
marble  throne,  and,  still  higher,  the  curving  dome  of 
the  covering  pavilion,  whose  marble  arches  opened 
upon  a  sky  of  cumulous  white  clouds. 

Whose  hand  made  this  wondrous  thing  of  beauty, 
wort  hy  of  Titian  or  Palma?  It  was  a  pair  of  hands,  — 
Fra  Marco  Pensabene,  of  Venice,  the  Dominican,  who 
commenced   the   work,    and    Girolamo   Savoldo,    of 


TREVISO  211 

Brescia,  who  completed  it ;  the  latter's  paintings  are 
distinguished  for  their  high  beauty  and  finish,  for  this 
same  depth  of  tone  and  color,  and  refinement  of  draw- 
ing, while  no  such  other  splendid  relic  of  the  former's 
brush  is  known;  so  I  conceive  this  to  be  chiefly  the 
product  of  Savoldo's  genius.  Says  the  critic,  Professor 
Giovanni  Milanese,  —  "Gli  artisti  sentono  una  mano 
che  seppe  fondere  insieme  il  magico  colorire  del  Gior- 
gione  col  divino  disegnare  di  Raffaele." * 

^When  I  had  turned  at  last  from  this  delight,  and 
was  glancing  at  the  curious  baroque  monument  of 
Pope  Benedict  XI  on  the  right  wall,  in  which  the  Pope 
is  sculptured  as  seated  between  two  cherubs,  before  a 
wildly  tossing  curtain,  —  a  gentle  voice  at  my  side  an- 
nounced the  abbot  of  the  monastery,  the  Reverend 
Professor  Ogniben,  a  man  of  charming  culture  and 
deportment.  He  chatted  a  while  engagingly  about  his 
artistic  treasures,  and  then  led  me  to  the  sacristy  and 
the  adjacent  cloister.  In  the  former  he  discovered  to 
me  two  canvases  of  Palma  Giovane,  and  out  of  the 
latter  opened  a  square  chamber  of  exceptional  interest, 
—  the  old  oratory  of  the  friars,  dating  from  at  least 
1170.  In  the  centre  of  the  rear  wall  a  large  Byzantine 
fresco  of  the  Crucifixion  confronted  me,  executed 
about  that  date,  but  remarkably  preserved.  Two 
saints  stood  beside  the  nude,  contorted  form  of  the 
dying  Saviour;  four  angels,  likewise  weeping,  appeared 
in  the  air  above;  and  under  quaint  wooden  canopies  at 
the  sides  were  Saints  Paul  and  Peter;  —  altogether  a 
work,  for  that  period,  of  wonderfully  good  drawing 
and  sincere  expression. 

This  room  was  called,  after  the  fresco,  the  Cappclla 
del    Crocefisso.     All   around   the   ancient   walls   other 

1  The  artist*  perceive  a  hand  that  knew  horn  to  mingle  the  magic  col- 
oring of  Giorgione  with  t In-  <  1  i vin«-  designing  oi  Raphael. 


JW  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

painted  figures  looked  down  upon  me,  primitive  also, 
hut  so  realistic  and  lifelike  as  to  excite  a  still  greater 
surprise;  they  were  all  Dominican  friars,  seated  each 
within  a  little  cell,  before  a  table  laden  with  books  or 
parchments,  reading  or  writing,  with  their  earnest 
faces  highly  individualized,  —  faithful  portraits,  as 
was  evident,  of  brothers  who  had  made  their  mark  in 
the  world.  Here  were,  as  the  inscriptions  indicated, 
Saints  Pietro  Martire  and  Thomas  Aquinas,  Popes 
Innocent  V  and  Benedict  XI,  and  many  that  had 
earned  fame  in  other  ways.  But  my  surprise  at  such 
realistic  modeling  and  expression  in  works  evidently  of 
the  trecento,  was  dissipated  when  the  good  abbot  re- 
vealed the  author,  —  "Tommaso  da  Modena."  I 
thanked  him  when  I  left,  for  opening  my  eyes  to  the 
full  merits  of  that  little  known  artist;  and  he  sent  next 
day  to  my  hotel  an  illustrated  booklet  of  seventy-five 
pages  devoted  to  the  beauties  of  S.  Niccolo.  Before 
departing,  however,  I  made  with  the  courteous  father 
another  round  of  the  church,  in  which  he  pointed  out 
to  me  several  of  its  minor  jewels:  another  canvas  or 
two  of  Palma  Giovane,  an  attractive  altar-top  by 
Girolamo  Campagna,  a  picture  by  Francesco  Bassano, 
and  other  works  of  lesser  interest,  including  one  by 
Marco  Vecellio. 

After  this  visit  I  had  but  one  more  to  pay  in  Tre- 
viso,  —  which  took  me,  the  next  day,  back  to  the  cen- 
tral piazza  where  I  had  begun.  The  handsome  Renais- 
sance structures  at  its  southern  angle  are  twain, 
connected  by  a  high  arcade;  the  right-hand  loggia,  of 
the  fire  and  telegraph  building,  being  supported  on 
Doric  columns  encased  in  rings;  the  left-hand  loggia 
consisting  of  rusticated  arches,  bearing  an  upper  story 
of  three  windows,  with  coupled  Ionic  half-columns 
between  them  and  at  the  angles.   In  this  piano  nobile 


TREVISO  213 

were  three  large  chambers,  in  which  I  found  the  city's 
collection  of  paintings  now  established,  —  though  not 
yet  entirely  hung.  Two  of  the  rooms  contained  works 
of  the  Renaissance  period,  mostly  of  small  account; 
the  third,  some  good  modern  canvases,  including  sev- 
eral of  high  merit. 

In  the  first  chamber  I  enjoyed  two  fine  portraits  by 
Leandro  Bassano,  of  a  young  man  and  his  wife,  and  a 
picture  of  a  Dominican  monk  by  Lorenzo  Lotto,  of 
much  naturalism  and  individuality.  In  the  second  room 
were,  amongst  many  others,  a  sublime  Madonna  by 
Giovanni  Bellini;  a  Holy  Family  with  Saints  Roch  and 
Sebastian,  by  Paolo  Veronese,  not  well  composed,  but 
having  graceful  figures  superbly  modeled;  one  of  Tin- 
toretto's lifelike  portraits,  of  Bartolommeo,  the  father 
of  Bianca  Capello;  a  splendid  Adoration  of  the  Magi 
by  an  unknown  hand,  possessing  an  extensive  hilly 
landscape  graduated  softly  from  brown  hues  to  blue, 
and  beautifully  toned  and  colored;  also  two  exquisite 
works  by  Paris  Bordone,  —  the  first  a  Madonna  on  a 
high  pedestal,  before  a  stretch  of  pretty  country,  with 
a  baby  angel  at  her  feet  and  two  saints  at  the  sides,  — 
the  second  (claimed  by  some  to  be  a  Palma  Vecchio, 
and  very  much  in  his  style),  being  a  most  lovely  Holy 
Family,  very  rich  in  hues,  graceful,  and  skillfully 
lighted,  with  softest  and  most  attractive  fleshwork,  — 
a  painting  of  the  very  first  rank.  This  was,  it  is  true, 
a  small  collection  for  Italy;  but  what  countless  enco- 
miums would  it  not  bring  forth,  what  offers  of  count- 
less gold,  if  it  could  be  bodily  transported  across  the 
sea. 

There  is  another  Lorenzo  Lotto,  perhaps  finer  than 
any  <>f  the  foregoing  canvases,  just  outside  of  Treviso, 
in  the  village  church  of  S.  Cristina,  five  miles  distant; 
it  i>  a  Madonna  enthroned  with  saints,  of  his  usual  high 


2 1 1  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

sensuousness  and  gorgeous  coloring,  and  to  my  mind 
well  worth  the  drive.  But  there  is  a  far  greater  object 
to  be  visited  from  this  city,  —  the  renowned  Villa 
Giacomelli,  perhaps  the  most  artistic  of  all  those 
numerous  chateaux  that  were  built  about  the  country 
by  the  patricians  of  Venice.1  It  stands  just  at  the  foot 
of  the  Alps,  some  fifteen  miles  northwest  of  Treviso 
and  ten  miles  east  of  Bassano;  easily  to  be  visited, 
therefore,  by  carriage  from  the  latter  place,  but  more 
comfortably  by  rail  from  Treviso  to  Cornuda,  three 
miles  distant.  There,  where  the  slopes  of  the  foothills 
commence,  just  without  the  little  village  of  Maser, 
this  monument  of  the  Renaissance  was  raised  by  the 
prominent  Venetian  family  of  Barbaro,  —  Marcanto- 
nio  Barbaro,  Procurator  of  St.  Mark,  and  his  brother 
Daniele,  the  Patriarch  of  Aquileia,  —  and  was  made 
immortal  by  the  conjoint  labor  of  three  of  the  great- 
est artists  of  the  age.  Palladio  designed  the  palace, 
Paolo  Veronese  painted  it,  Alessandro  Vittoria  en- 
riched it  with  his  sculptures. 

What  a  vision  is  raised  for  us  by  the  sound  of  those 
three  names  together;  where  else  is  there  such  a  resid- 
ence, constructed  in  all  three  branches  of  art  by  the 
leading  masters  of  its  period?  The  fame  of  Villa  Bar- 
baro soon  resounded  far  and  wide  when  it  was  finished, 
raising  it  at  once  to  a  chief  place  in  the  galaxy  of 
Venetian  country-houses,  celebrated  by  visiting  artists 
and  literati,  and  the  scene  subsequently  of  many  a 
fete  of  the  great  world  in  the  seventeenth  and  eight- 

1  A  third  trip  that  should  be  taken  from  Treviso,  by  travelers  endowed 
with  time,  is  by  rail  up  the  valley  of  the  Piave  to  Feltre  and  Belluno;  a 
journey  of  delightful  scenery,  which  reaches  its  maximum  at  Belluno,  upon 
its  isolated  lofty  rock  girdled  by  great  mountain  ranges.  The  city  is 
picturesque  also  in  its  winding  medieval  streets,  shadowed  by  quaint  old 
houses  and  dignified  palaces  of  the  Renaissance;  it  has  a  fine  Titian,  a 
Cathedral  by  Palladio,  and  charming  walks  on  all  sides. 


MASER.     VILLA    GIACOMELLI.   CENTRAL  PAVILION. 


MASER,     VILLA    GIACOMELLI      ENTRANCE,    Willi    FOUNTAIN    V.ND 

I.I  I  I  II.     I  I. Mil   I. 


TREVISO  215 

eenth  centuries.1  In  it  died  Lodovico  Marin,  the  last 
Doge  of  Venice,  to  the  possession  of  whose  family  it 
had  passed;  from  the  Marin  it  descended  through 
marriage  to  the  Masena  family,  and  from  them  by 
similar  process  to  the  Giacomelli,  by  whose  name  it  is 
to-day  generally  known. 

One  bright  morning,  therefore,  I  was  rolling  north- 
westward across  the  plain  toward  the  mountains,  on 
the  line  that  climbs  the  valley  of  the  Piave  to  Feltre 
and  Belluno;  and  I  watched  the  Alpine  wall  come 
steadily  closer  and  higher,  while  the  train  slowly 
abated  its  momentum  on  the  ever  increasing  grade  of 
the  unseen  slope.  Away  on  each  side  stretched  the 
smiling  fields  of  corn  and  vine,  the  vineyards  radiating 
far  rows  of  stunted  trees,  from  which  the  garlands 
swung  glistening  with  bright  leaf  and  tendril  and  new- 
fledged  grape: — 

I  must  say 
That  Italy  's  a  pleasant  place  to  me. 
Who  love  to  see  the  sunshine  every  day. 
And  vines  (not  nailed  to  walls)  from  tree  to  tree 
Festooned,  much  like  the  back  scene  of  a  play.2 

At  the  town  of  Montebello,  where  joins  the  branch 
from  Castelfranco  and  Padua,  we  met  the  first  of  the 
foothills;  behind  it  came  a  wild  stretch  of  wooded 
country,  undulating  in  long  swells,  over  which  the 
engine  panted  slowly  to  the  second  line  of  hills.  At 
their  very  feet  I  disembarked,  in  the  scattered  village 
of  Cornuda;  and  securing  a  little  vehicle,  started  west- 
ward on  the  old  highway  to  Asolo  and  Bassano. 

It  was  a  delightful  drive:  the  road  was  level,  but  on 

1  It  was  here  that  Lord   Ibirlin^ton  —  who  was  enamored  of  Palladio's 

works,  and  had  made  a  journey  into  Italy  in  order  t<>  hunt  down  some  of 

his  Inst  detigni  -  claimed  to  have  discovered  a  number  of  the  ^rcat  mas- 
ter's plans  and  notes,  which  the  English  nobleman  published  in  his  eu- 
logium  of  17:JU.  i  Lord  Byron,  Beppo. 


210  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

both  sides  ot*  this  restricted  upland  section  of  the  plain 
rose  the  hills'  dark,  wooded  flanks,  loftier  on  the  north, 
—  dotted  amidst  their  umbrageous  wildness  with 
occasional  white  villages  topped  by  campanili,  with 
towered  gray  castles,  and  glistening  villas.  The  floor 
of  the  vale  was  richly  cultivated;  but  here  too  were 
trees  in  exceptional  abundance,  in  groves  and  orchards, 
shading  the  gardens  and  lining  the  fields.  It  did  not 
seem  like  Italy,  nor  did  the  frequent  farmhouses  along 
the  road,  except  for  the  old,  broken,  stucco  walls,  and 
front  barnyards  littered  with  refuse  and  manure. 
Venice  was  like  Florence  in  the  peace  that  she  gave  her 
territory,  permitting  living  upon  the  soil  at  an  age 
when  everywhere  else  it  was  impossible.  For  the  same 
reason  her  patricians  could  build  country-places  of 
beauty,  instead  of  fortified  castles,  from  the  cinque- 
cento  downward. 

The  fine,  hard  road  wound  along  between  hedges 
and  trees,  fields  of  Indian  corn  and  wheat,  vineyards 
and  orchards;  now  and  then  we  passed  a  group  of  peas- 
ants traveling  in  their  regular  mode,  —  packed  five 
or  six  into  a  tinv  two-wheeled  cart  without  seat  or 
springs,  their  heavy  boots  dangling  from  front  and 
rear,  as  they  sat  on  the  bottom  back  to  back,  their 
round  red  faces  peering  curiously  from  beneath  large 
caps,  over  the  big  market-baskets  upon  their  laps. 
After  some  three  quarters  of  an  hour  we  traversed  the 
straggling  village  street  of  Maser,  and  just  beyond 
it  came  to  a  beautiful,  classic,  stuccoed  church  at  the 
left  of  the  road,  with  glittering  white  columns  and 
ornate  pediment;  it  was  the  chapel  of  the  Villa  Gia- 
comelli,  constructed  in  1580. ' 

1  This  was  also  Palladio's  work,  and  is  ornamented  by  the  plaster- 
sculpture  of  Yittoria.  The  latter  executed  the  adjacent  ornamental  foun- 
tain, in  the  middle  of  the  road,  which  is  a  faithful  example  of  the  taste  of 
the  later  cinquecenlo. 


VILLA  GIACOMELLI  217 

Near  by  were  a  large  sculptured  fountain,  in  the 
very  decorative  style  of  the  Late-Renaissance,  and  a 
large  closed  gateway  on  the  right,  through  whose  bars  I 
saw  a  graveled  avenue  leading  straightaway  up  a  long 
slope,  between  brick  parapets  crowned  at  intervals  by 
charming  little  statues  of  putti.  At  the  upper  end  of 
this  pleasing  vista,  unshaded  by  any  trees,  stretched 
the  long,  imposing  facade  of  the  villa  itself,  glittering 
marble-like  over  the  green  fields  and  across  the  fertile 
valley.  What  an  admirable,  commanding  situation 
this  was;  and  how  the  whiteness  of  its  stuccoed  columns 
and  arcades  gleamed  in  the  sun,  against  the  wood  of 
tall  pines  rising  darkly  behind! 

In  the  centre,  looking  directly  down  the  avenue, 
projected  a  graceful,  two-storied  pavilion,  with  four 
Ionic  half-columns  supporting  a  pediment  filled  with 
a  sculptured  tableau;  from  this  centre  ran  somewhat 
lower  arcades  to  right  and  to  left,  —  simple  stuccoed 
arches  on  stucco  piers,  with  sloping  red-tiled  roofs, 
and  two  stories  of  windows  gazing  from  under  them; 
at  the  ends  were  pavilions,  rising  on  similar  arches 
more  widely  spaced,  which  had  no  openings  in  their 
upper  floors,  but  instead,  large  painted  sun-dials. 
Before  the  front  door  lay  a  handsome  circular  flower- 
bed, with  four  marble  divinities  standing  around  it; 
other  statues  adorned  the  plot  before  the  villa,  and  the 
glitter  was  complemented  by  a  series  of  tall  white  chim- 
neys rising  from  the  tiles.  I  walked  on  slowly  up  the 
driveway,  and,  as  I  did  so,  thought  of  the  countless  il- 
lustrious guests  that  had  walked  here  in  past  days,  — 
warriors,  statesmen,  artists,  poets,  —  the  great  men 
of  three  successive  centuries. 

I  bent  my  steps  to  a  door  in  the  right  arcade,  intro- 
duced myself  t«>  the  housekeeper,  a  very  pleasant 
person,  learned  that  the  proprietors  were  fortunately 


218  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

absent,  and  hence  received  a  permission  to  look  over 
the  piano  nobile.  One  of  the  finest  traits  of  the  Italian 
nobility  is  the  gracious  readiness  with  which  they 
suffer  strangers  to  inspect  their  homes.  A  maid  who 
was  detailed  to  guide  me  led  the  way  up  the  main 
staircase,  from  the  beginning  of  the  right  arcade  to 
the  rear  hall  of  the  central  pavilion;  this  last  was  a 
large  square  chamber,  with  gleaming  white  parietes 
illumined  by  a  flood  of  light  from  the  back  windows 
and  doorway,  with  a  handsome  dining-table  in  the 
centre,  and  rich  furniture  and  canvases  about  the 
walls.  But  that  which  irradiated  the  apartment  with 
gorgeous  hues  was  its  lofty  arched  ceiling,  brilliantly 
painted  from  end  to  end,  representing  a  heaven  of  white 
rolling  clouds,  peopled  with  a  beautiful,  spectacular 
assemblage  of  classic  gods  and  goddesses. 

It  was  the  Olympus  of  ancient  Greece;  and  upon  the 
wall  over  the  entrance  glowed  a  banquet  scene,  at 
which  the  diners  here  below  doubtless  often  looked 
up,  quaffing  their  wine  in  jovial  imitation  of  the  gods 
and  their  cups  of  nectar.  Above  the  windows  shone 
another  such  Olympic  tableau;  and  along  the  upper 
sides  extended  realistic  balustrades,  upon  whose  rail- 
ings leaned  silken  cinquecento  figures,  returning  the 
gaze  of  those  below,  in  the  company  of  monkeys,  dogs, 
and  parrots,  —  inevitable  companions  of  the  Renais- 
sance nobility.  The  frescoing  was  completed  by  single 
figures  of  Olympians  on  the  four  pendentives  of  the 
vaulting.  All  these  many  graceful  divinities,  in  their 
more  or  less  nude  forms  of  splendid  modeling  and  lus- 
trous flesh,  their  brilliantly  tinted,  flowing  draperies 
and  hair,  their  beautiful  countenances  and  impressive 
mien,  —  radiated  the  joys  of  life,  the  harmonies  of 
art,  the  pleasures  of  the  table,  the  enchantments  of 
fair  women,  the  bliss  of  paradise,  on  sumptuous  waves 


VILLA  GIACOMELLI  219 

of  color  that  must  have  inspired  the  mortal  banqueters 
with  a  like  felicity. 

Paolo  Cagliari  was  in  the  very  prime  of  his  powers, 
between  fifty  and  sixty  years  of  age,  when  with  his 
magic  brush,  rioting  in  those  dreams  of  carnal  happi- 
ness and  magnificence  that  most  quickened  it,  he 
lifted  this  chamber  to  the  immortality  which  is  here 
depicted.  With  the  constant  increase  of  his  fame  and 
wealth,  love  of  splendor  and  ostentation  had  grown 
upon  him,  step  by  step  with  his  own  joyous  revelings, 
till  it  spread  itself  resplendent  in  these  gorgeous  scenes 
of  feasting  and  mythology,  and  produced  elsewhere 
those  strange  gigantic  canvases  of  banquets  glittering 
in  princely  pomp.  Then  he  could  no  longer  portray  a 
group  of  simple  piety,  —  a  picture  that  would  speak 
to  the  heart;  and  when  he  tried,  the  martyrdom  that 
was  attempted  emerged  as  a  glistening  show  of  silks 
and  jewels.  So  was  produced  that  Death  of  S.  Gius- 
tina  at  Padua,  and  the  great  Marriage  of  Cana  in  the 
Louvre.  Strangest  of  all,  but  perfectly  typical  of  the 
epoch,  Paolo  at  the  same  time  asserted  a  piety  pro- 
found, and  was  constant  in  his  churchly  devotions. 
Only  a  few  years  after  painting  this  villa,  in  1588,  he 
died  in  I  lie  very  "odor  of  sanctity." 

The  full,  complete  beauty  of  this  dining-hall  was 
not,  however,  revealed  to  me  until  I  stepped  to  the  open 
doorway  in  the  rear,  —  to  be  struck  by  a  sighl  that 
held  me  motionless:  a  little  garden  lay  before  me,  level 
with  the  floor,  holding  in  its  centre  ;i  basin  of  water 
with  a  tinkling  fountain;  and  behind  it,  close  al  hand, 
circling  round  upon  all  sides,  rose  a  wall  of  stucco 
shaped  into  one  great  mass  of  sculpt  ure,  glistening  and 

Coruscating  in   the  dazzling  sunlight  enough  to  blind 

the  unexpecting  eyes.  This,  then,  was Vittoria's  addi- 
tion to  the  palace,      astatued  garden  such  as  no  other 


j  >o  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

age  would  have  produced.  The  wall  sloped  upward  to 
a  Hat  central  gable,  under  which  an  archway  formed 
the  entrance  to  a  grotto,  guarded  by  two  giant  forms 
leaning  against  the  jambs,  — Atlantes  supporting  the 
entablature;  while  over  the  entablature,  and  all  around 
the  curving  walls,  shone  a  score  of  other  gleaming 
figures,  nude  and  beautiful,  from  the  midst  of  gar- 
lands, pulli,  niches,  shields,  and  piles  of  ancient  arms, 
all  executed  in  high-relief.  One  large  garland  of  fruits 
drooped  across  the  arch-top,  supported  by  two  lovely, 
winged,  female  divinities  leaning  upon  its  quarters,  — 
a  very  unique  and  charming  design;  above  their  heads 
rose  the  peak  of  the  long,  flat  gable,  having  a  heavy, 
block  cornice,  and  at  their  sides,  in  the  angles  be- 
tween the  eaves  and  lower  cornice,  glowed  the  joyous 
reds  and  blues  of  two  oblong  frescoes  in  rococo  frames, 
—  Venus  playing  with  Cupid,  in  cinquecento  coiffure, 
and  little  else. 

Under  the  cornice  on  both  sides  were  niches  at  inter- 
vals, containing  the  statues,  with  panels  of  arms  be- 
tween them,  and  drooping  garlands  mounted  astride 
by  the  most  charming  cherubs.  The  whole  construc- 
tion was  surmounted,  on  the  front  of  its  peak,  by  an- 
other moulded  Venus,  whose  form  shone  like  living 
alabaster  against  the  black  pines  towrering  behind. 
Such  was  the  classical  vision  that  poured  its  irides- 
cent curves  through  the  wide  openings  of  the  salon, 
to  complement  the  painted  paradise  overhead. 

My  guide  now  opened  a  door  in  the  left  wall,  and 
revealed  four  successive  chambers  on  that  side,  all 
looking  upon  the  garden,  luxuriously  furnished  as 
bed-  and  living-rooms,  and  bearing  evidences  of  late 
occupation.  Upon  their  ceilings  disported  the  Greek 
immortals  of  Veronese  in  decorative  poses,  though  few 
in  number  compared  with  the  hall;  in  the  first  room 


YIASER      VILLA  GIAC0MELL1      DETAIL  OF  WALL.      PAOLO  VERONESE.) 


VILLA  GIACOMELLI  221 

was  also  a  lovely  fresco  of  Madonna  and  Child;  in 
the  last,  a  very  handsome  canopied  bed  of  former 
times,  and  upon  the  end  wall,  a  painting  of  startling 
deceptiveness.  This  was  an  open  doorway,  through 
which  a  huntsman  was  just  entering,  accompanied  by 
a  dog,  —  and  his  features  were  those  of  Paolo  Cagliari 
himself.  He  was  a  good-looking  man,  of  fair  beard 
and  good  proportions,  on  whom  the  years  sat  very 
easily,  —  resembling  more  a  merry  country  squire  than 
one's  idea  of  an  artist. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  hall  I  was  shown  four  sim- 
ilar rooms.  The  first  again  contained  a  Madonna  on 
the  wall  and  Greek  divinities  on  the  ceiling;  the  third 
was  decorated  in  Pompeian  style,  with  little  panels 
of  pretty  landscapes  amongst  the  grotesques  (not  the 
work  of  Cagliari) ;  and  in  the  fourth  was  another  painted 
open  doorway  on  the  end  wall,  this  time  admitting  the 
person  of  an  attractive  woman,  —  the  wife  of  Vero- 
nese. Thus  he  and  she  still  look  down  the  vista  of  the 
rooms  he  glorified,  through  the  open  doorways  all  in 
a  line,  till  their  glances  find  each  other  at  the  distant 
ends.  In  this  final  chamber  stood  another  gorgeous 
bed,  upon  its  ceiling  gambolled  graceful  putli,  and  on 
the  walls  were  various  paintings  by  Paolo's  pupils;  — 
a  bewitching  ensemble,  which,  I  fancy,  would  hold  in 
the  country  most  of  the  year  any  art-lover  having  the 
joy  of  its  occupancy. 

Lasi  of  ,i!l  I  was  conducted  to  the  main  hall,  which 
occupies  the  front  part  of  the  central  pavilion,  ad- 
jacenl  to  the  dining-salon.  It  is  in  the  form  of  a  Greek 
cross,  with  four  chambers  filling  the  corners  between 
tlic  arms.  In  the  centre  is  a  four-sided  divan  topped 
by  ;i  marble  statue;  overhead  are  charming  arab- 
esques covering  the  whole  of  the  vaulted  ceilings;  and 
round  about  the  walls,  eighl   frescoes  by  Veronese, 


PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

representing  niches  containing  brightly  tinted,  alle- 
gorical, female  figures,  symbolizing  the  different 
branches  of  music.  But  besides  these,  Paolo  had 
placed  here  two  more  of  those  curious,  deceptive, 
open  doorways,  apparently  leading  into  the  cham- 
bers, —  double  doors  in  each  case,  with  one  of  each 
pair  partly  ajar,  and  two  youthful  figures  just  step- 
ping through  them,  a  girl  and  a  boy,  clad  in  the 
pretty  costumes  of  Paolo's  age.  Over  all  the  wall- 
spaces  not  so  utilized,  he  had  constructed  with  his 
brush  an  elaborate  architectual  scheme  in  grisaille, 
with  pilasters,  cornices,  and  little  panels  of  designs 
and  figures;  into  which  scheme  the  imitation  niches 
and  doorways  were  carefully  fitted. 

Amongst  these  painted  pilasters  I  also  discerned  a 
number  of  grisaille  medallions  bearing  heads;  and  my 
guide  informed  me  that  they  were  likenesses  of  the 
Barbaro  family,  and  of  the  three  great  artists  who  had 
labored  here  for  them.  She  then  opened  the  two  front 
rooms,  always  the  guest-chambers  of  the  villa,  which 
were  beautiful  with  wood  mosaic  floors,  ornate  stucco 
chimneys,  and  ceilings  glowing  with  the  opulent 
colors  of  Veronese.  One  of  these  very  decorative  pic- 
tures was  the  so-called  "Matrimony,"  or  antique 
wedding-scene;  the  other,  a  scene  of  Bacchus  in  the 
vintage,  finely  composed  and  modeled,  radiant  with 
the  spirit  of  Omar  Khayyam,  —  the  joy  of 

Beaded  bubbles  winking  at  the  brim. 

The  scene  from  the  windows  here  was  fully  as  lovely: 
the  flowered  circle  with  its  shining  marbles,  the  majes- 
tic avenue  lined  by  statues,  the  green,  gardened  slope 
to  the  luxuriant  valley,  the  dark  hills  against  the  blue 
horizon  with  their  forests  of  pines.  No  wonder  the 
Venetian  patricians  loved  to  linger  here,  with  beauty 
surrounding  them  both  within  and  without." 


VILLA  GIACOMELLI  223 

The  grandiose  hall,  the  whole  sumptuous  villa, 
are  a  brilliant  exemplar  of  that  old  courtly  life  of 
gay  villeggiatura;  also  —  I  thought,  as  I  wended  my 
way  back  to  Treviso  —  of  the  utter  artificiality  of 
the  Renaissance  society  of  the  decadence,  when  the 
elaborate  social  forms  and  ceremonies  were  as  hollow 
as  the  stucco  imitations  roundabout.  Then  did  men 
forget  that  underlying  first  principle  upon  which  true 
art  must  stand,  upon  which  had  been  erected  the  fab- 
ric of  its  glory  when  the  Renaissance  was  young,  — 
that  principle  which  Browning  has  so  well  expressed: 

It  is  the  glory  and  the  good  of  Art, 

That  Art  remains  the  one  way  possible 

Of  speaking  truth,  to  mouths  like  mine  at  least.1 

1  Robert  Browning,  The  Ring  and  the  Book. 


CHAPTER  VII 

FROM    TREVISO   TO   UDINE 

We've  sent  our  souls  out  from  the  rigid  north, 
On  bare  white  feet  whieh  would  not  print  nor  bleed. 
To  climb  the  Alpine  passes,  and  look  forth 
Where  booming  low  the  Lombard  rivers  lead 
To  gardens,  vineyards,  all  a  dream  is  worth. 

—  Mrs.  Browning,  Casa  Guidi  Windows. 

Northward,  along  the  great  highway  of  the  centuries, 
laid  deep  and  lasting  by  Roman  arms,  the  highway 
plodded  over  by  such  countless  caravans  of  merchants, 
on  their  way  to  and  from  the  countries  of  the  north 
and  east,  the  highway  tramped  by  so  many  imperial 
armies  on  their  march  to  Thrace  and  Syria,  by  so 
many  barbaric  hosts  on  their  way  to  the  mastery  of 
Rome,  —  Alaric  with  his  Visigoths,  Attila  with  his 
Huns,  Theodoric  with  his  Ostrogoths,  Alboin  with  his 
Lombards;  —  what  would  all  those  myriads  have 
thought,  in  what  deadly  fear  would  those  conquerors 
have  fallen  prostrate,  could  they  have  beheld  this  giant 
demon  of  steel  and  fire  that  whirled  me  over  their 
storied  route! 

Here  was  the  mile-wide  bed  of  the  dashing  Piave, 
which  used  to  hold  their  legions  in  check  a  month  or 
more,  when  its  spring  flood  burst  from  the  confining 
mountains  over  the  helpless  plain,  —  now  a  huge  desert 
of  cobbles  and  boulders  shining  brightly  in  the  sun, 
over  which  the  train  crawled  carefully  on  shaky  spans, 
finding  to-day  naught  of  that  hurtling  deluge,  but  a 
peaceful  little  stream  meandering  through  the  stones.1 

1  The  great  problem  of  the  Veneto  has  ever  been  the  confining  to  one 


FROM  TREVISO  TO  UDINE  225 

On  its  farther  side  the  Alpine  wall  loomed  closely 
now,  upon  the  left,  sweeping  from  southwest  to  the 
far  northeast,  faced  by  gentler,  tree-clad  hills,  that 
gleamed  with  villages  and  castles.  On  one  of  those 
smiling  heights  edging  the  plain  there  stood,  I  knew, 
the  grand  old  castle  of  S.  Salvatore,  rendered  famous 
by  the  brush  of  Pordenone;  the  highway  bent  west- 
ward to  it,  through  the  adjacent  village  of  Susegana, 
which  lay  in  a  dell  hidden  from  my  sight.  But  stead- 
ily, as  we  ran  on,  the  train  approached  the  base  of  the 
hills,  and  in  a  few  miles  came  against  it,  at  the  station 
of  Conegliano.  I  disembarked,  deposited  my  luggage 
at  the  parcel-room,  and  emerged  into  a  stately,  tree- 
lined  avenue  leading  straightaway  west  to  the  massed 
buildings  of  the  town,  surmounted  by  a  height  with 
a  ruined  castle. 

There  stands  an  ancient  castle 
On  yonder  mountain-height, 
Where,  fenced  with  door  and  portal, 
Once  tarried  steed  and  knight.1 

It  was  a  beautiful  vista:  over  the  white  walls  and 
red  roofs  rose  ponderous  old  campanili;  over  them  all 
mounted  the  steep  hillside,  its  vineyards  unbroken  but 
for  the  battlemented  wall  climbing  on  the  left  from  one 
shattered  tower  to  another;  and  adjacent  to  the  grim 
keep  of  the  castle,  surrounded  by  the  sentinel  spires 
of  tall  cypresses,  glistened  a  villa  with  a  classic,  col- 
course  of  these  numerous  rivers  across  the  plain;  whose  flooded  onrush, 
in  the  st«-<*p  and  comparatively  short  descenl  between  the  Alps  and  the 
sea,  not  only  carried  into  the  latter  tin-  washed  Boil  of  the  mountains,  hut 
■wept  away  tin-  precious  earth  <>f  the  level,  leaving  behind  only  a  desert  of 
broken  rock.    Modern  engineering  science  baa  succeeded  in  binding  them 

with  mighty  dikes,  whose  summits  have  continually  to  be  raised,  as  the 
bedl  of  the  streams  rise  year  by  year.  Kvetl  then,  breaks  and  disastrous 
v..i-!ioiit  ,  often  occur,  in  times  of  unusual  rain,  spreading  desolation  over 
large  tract,  of  country. 

1  Translate. I  from  Goethe  by  Aytoun  and  Martin. 


226  PLAIN-TOWNS   OF  ITALY 

iimned  facade.  As  I  gazed,  I  thought  of  the  stormy 
ages  that  had  rolled  over  this  little,  out-of-the-way, 
hut  important  eity. 

Conegliano,  as  I  have  said,  was  always  the  junction 
of  the  two  great  highways  to  the  north  and  east,  and 
therefore  a  link  in  the  chain  of  communication  that 
no  power  would  ignore.  She  was  a  fortress,  perched 
upon  this  battlemented  hill,  controlling  the  traffic  of 
the  two  routes  at  her  will.  In  the  ages  of  Rome's  de- 
cline she  suffered  the  perils  of  her  location,  in  siege 
and  sack  and  destruction  by  the  passing  invaders, 
over  and  over,  —  another  little  section  of  those  bar- 
baric horrors  that  never  were  written  in  detail  and 
man  will  never  know.  In  the  succeeding  Middle  Ages, 
she  rested  long  under  the  hard  yoke1  of  the  Trevisan 
Republic,  and  was  then  successively  taken  by  Ezzelino, 
the  Delia  Carrara,  and  Delia  Scala,  —  until,  along 
with  Treviso  and  the  rest  of  the  Marches,  she  found 
rest  and  safety  in  the  bosom  of  the  Serene  Republic. 

Venice  then  rebuilt  the  castle  that  overlooked  the 
town,  and  re-strengthened  the  protecting  walls  that 
crept  down  from  it  to  envelop  the  buildings  at  the  foot 
of  the  slope,  installing  a  podesta  that  governed  hence- 
forth, from  a  seat  more  commanding  than  in  any  other 
of  her  towns  save  Brescia.  In  the  following  century 
the  artist  was  born  who  did  more  to  make  Conegliano 
known  than  all  the  incidents  of  her  history.  Gian 
Battista  Cima  was  a  boy  in  those  very  streets  before 
me,  under  the  shadow  of  the  great  fortress  of  the 
podesta  which  made  such  a  lasting  impression  upon  his 

1  That  the  yoke  of  Treviso  over  the  Marshes  was  hard,  we  find  by  such 
entries  as  this  in  the  annals  of  Friuli:  "In  11G4  war  is  begun  upon  Treviso 
by  the  league  of  the  Coneglianesi  with  Ceneda  and  with  Ottone,  Bishop 
of  Belluno,  protected  by  Valdarico,  the  Patriarch  of  Aquileia,  who  ex- 
horted them  to  free  themselves  from  obedience  to  the  Trevisans."  —  F.  di 
Manzano's  compilation  of  the  Annuli  del  Friuli.    (Author's  trans.) 


FROM  TREVISO  TO  UDINE  227 

mind;  but  the  impression  of  the  Alpine  peaks  was 
stronger  still,  and  when  he  had  wandered  to  Venice 
in  search  of  artistic  learning,  drawn  by  the  marble 
city  like  steel  to  a  magnet,  those  gentle  pictures  which 
he  soon  began  to  produce  under  the  influence  of  Gian 
Bellini,  full  of  golden  tones  and  pietistic  peace,  carried 
always  in  their  backgrounds  the  line  of  his  native  hills. 

Thence  did  the  Venetians  name  him  Cima,  —  the 
Italian  word  for  mountain-top,  —  Cima  da  Conegli- 
ano.  At  the  mention  of  that  name,  what  lovely  visions 
rise  before  us,  what  inspired,  holy  figures,  full  of  grace 
and  dignity,  lost  in  ecstatic  contemplations,  standing 
in  idyllic  landscapes,  —  whose  distant  towered  castle 
with  flanking  walls  was  the  frowning  memory  of  the 
child.  But  he  dearly  loved  his  native  place;  —  often, 
as  time  went  on,  he  returned  to  visit  it,  and  took  a 
share  in  filling  its  streets  with  joyous  colors  on  their 
house-fronts. 

"Amongst  rude  decorations  of  this  kind  at  Cone- 
gliano  we  notice  a  slender  neatness  and  regularity  in 
delineations  of  the  human  shape,  and  a  reddish  tinge  of 
flesh,  familiar  to  Cima:  yet  Cima's  productions  have 
little  else  to  remind  us  of  local  influences,  and  we  are 
at  a  loss  to  name  an  artist  in  Friuli  to  whom  he  owes 
any  marked  feature  of  his  style."  '  Besides  these  fres- 
coes, now  entirely  vanished,  he  executed  for  the  Duomo 
one  of  his  finest  canvases,  —  a  large  Madonna  and 
Saints,  the  chief  sight  and  treasure  of  his  city  to- 
day. 

The  avenue  extending  from  the  station  was  not 
long;  and  advancing  down  it  I  came  soon  to  a  wide 
transverse  thoroughfare  along  the  base  of  the  hill, 

faced  upon  the  east  side  with  three-  and  four-storied 

Btuccoed  buildings  of  modern  appearance,  containing 

1  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle. 


228  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

shops  .ind  caffes.  UpoD  its  west  side  stretchecj  gardens 
of  shrubbery  and  flowers,  some  twenty-five  yards  in 
width,  backed  by  closely  set,  rear  walls  of  dwellings, 
of  even  height:  and  these  curved  gently  with  the 
street  line  as  it  swept  to  north  and  south,  circling 
with  the  foot  of  the  hill.  Then  the  truth  broke  sud- 
denly upon  me:  this  was  the  line  of  the  vanished  city 
wall,  that  once  stood  with  its  moat  upon  the  ground 
now  covered  by  these  gardens,  —  leaving  the  houses 
that  had  risen  just  within  the  wall  as  the  present 
demarcation  of  the  ancient  burg.  Directly  before  me, 
looking  down  the  road  to  the  station,  where  once  had 
opened  the  main  gateway  of  the  fortress,  now  opened 
a  corresponding  entrance  through  the  line  of  old  build- 
ings, —  a  wide,  deep,  shadowy  passage  beneath  them, 
entered  by  a  triple  archway,  and  approached  by  a 
cement-flagged  promenade. 

Through  this  modern  gateway,  and  up  and  down 
this  main  street  that  formerly  had  been  but  a  road 
outside  the  fortification,  throngs  of  people  were  con- 
tinually passing;  it  was  a  very  busy  scene,  enlivened 
further  by  bicycles  and  crowds  of  peasants'  vehicles. 
Over  the  roofs  of  the  wall  of  houses,  to  the  left,  rose 
one  ancient  touch,  —  a  huge,  heavy,  Romanesque 
campanile,  with  a  belfry  of  three  arches,  capped  by  a 
pointed  Byzantine  cupola,  speaking  of  countless  age 
in  every  line  and  crumbling  stone;  it  was  —  as  I  soon 
learned  —  the  campanile  of  the  Cathedral.  Far  higher, 
behind  it,  soared  the  green  slope  of  the  hill,  to  the 
great,  black  donjon  glowering  down  still  as  when  the 
podesta  kept  watch  from  it  over  the  city  and  plain. 

I  approached  and  traversed  the  gateway,  coming 
out  within  upon  the  central  piazza  of  the  old  town,  a 
fair-sized,  stone-paved,  empty  space,  burning  fiercely 
in  the  sun,  —  once  pleasingly  named  after  their  great 


FROM  TREVISO  TO  UDINE  229 

man,  Cima,  now  weighted  with  the  appellation  of 
Venti  Settembre.  On  its  left  rose  a  mass  of  old  houses, 
hiding  the  side  of  the  Duomo;  on  its  right,  the  little 
Palazzo  Municipale,  with  a  loggia  on  the  ground  floor, 
of  Renaissance  design  and  some  attempt  at  grace;  but 
the  chief  edifice  looked  down  from  the  elevated  rear 
side,  —  a  monumental,  ponderous  structure  of  decad- 
ent Renaissance  style,  with  heavy,  bare  wall-spaces 
and  classic  pediments,  partly  Greek  in  effect,  partly 
Egyptian.  The  wide  main  body  of  it  had  two  lofty 
divisions,  —  plain,  stuccoed  basement  and  piano 
nobilc;  in  its  centre  there  projected  well  forward  and 
to  the  height  of  a  third  story  a  massive  pavilion,  hold- 
ing on  its  first  floor  as  the  building's  chief  feature  a 
large  loggia,  whose  two  middle  supports  were  detached 
caryatids  of  mammoth  size  and  ugliness.  Before  the 
three  square  windows  of  its  third  story  stood  plaster 
statues,  copies  of  the  antique;  at  the  ends  of  the  main 
body  were  two  slight  pavilions,  adorned  on  the  first 
floor  by  temple-like  constructions,  of  four  heavy  pilas- 
ters and  pediment,  with  long  windows  between  the 
central  pilasters,  before  which  stood  two  other  heroic 
statues.  Other  pediments  crowned  the  loggia  and  cen- 
tral pavilion,  and  other  heavy  pilasters  of  uncouth 
shape  framed  the  first-floor  windows;  while  the  three 
doorways  of  the  basement  were  not  framed  at  all. 
Seldom  have  I  seen  anywhere  a  more  extraordinary 
and  peculiar  design,  —  so  ponderous  and  clumsy, 
with  such  a  bad  mixture  of  styles;  yet  in  spite  of  all, 
retaining  a  certain  nameless  dignity  and  power. 

This  curious  structure  was  the  town's  opera-house; 
and  posters  were  affixed  to  the  walls  announcing 
a  grand  presentation  of  Carmen  for  that  evening. 
Think  of  it,  a  country  place  <>f  only  ten  thousand 
inhabitants,  with  a  huge  palace  foi   the  housing  of 


230  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

their  operatic  seasons.  —  O  wonderful  Italy;  —  where 
else  could  be  found  such  a  people! 

Adjacent  to  the  gateway  on  the  south,  a  handsome 
Renaissance  dwelling  looked  across  at  the  theatre, 
having  elegant  windows,  beautifully  cut  as  to  their 
mouldings,  and  one  unusual  corner  window  with  a 
balcony  very  richly  sculptured.  From  the  piazza  the 
street  swept  curving  to  north  and  south,  between  tall 
old  stuccoed  houses,  —  those  on  the  east  side  forming 
the  inclosing  wall;  deep,  shadowy  arcades  ran  below 
on  both  sides,  and  here  and  there  were  lingering  por- 
tions of  the  bright  frescoes  that  had  once  embellished 
the  city.  To  the  right  I  found  a  number  of  Renaissance 
palaces,  once  full  of  grandeur  and  noble  families,  now 
put  to  common  uses,  with  stables  in  their  ornamental 
cortili. 

Immediately  to  the  south,  on  the  west  side  of  the 
way,  rose  the  Duomo,  undistinguishable  as  to  its 
facade  from  the  rest  of  the  row  of  buildings,  except 
for  the  abundant  frescoes  of  Old  Testament  scenes 
between  the  openings  of  the  upper  story;  below  con- 
tinued the  arcade,  upon  large,  plastered,  Gothic 
arches;  above  were  a  number  of  double  Romanesque 
windows;  and  the  paintings  were  remarkably  pre- 
served, both  in  lines  and  colors,  affording  an  excellent 
idea  of  the  appearance  of  the  streets  of  four  centuries 
ago.  There  were  tableaux  of  the  Deluge,  King  David 
with  his  harp,  and  other  Judaical  incidents,  not  very 
well  drawn  but  full  of  bright  hues  and  picturesqueness. 

The  interior,  which  I  entered  directly  from  the 
arcade,  proved  an  utter  contrast  from  the  aged  facade, 
—  an  arched  nave  of  Renaissance  lines,  simple  and 
regular,  aisles  with  side  chapels,  and  a  deep  choir  with 
a  chapel  on  each  hand.  On  the  last  altar  to  the  left  I 
found  the  pala  of  Cima,  —  a  great  glowing  group  of 


FROM  TREVISO  TO  UDINE  231 

the  Madonna  enthroned  between  St.  John,  St.  An- 
thony, and  four  others,  including  two  women.  The 
splendid  tone  was  much  darkened  by  age,  but  the 
duskiness  perhaps  enhanced  the  grace  and  solidity 
of  the  quiet  figures,  —  especially  the  two  lovely  girl- 
angels  sitting  at  the  foot  of  the  throne  and  making 
melody.  As  was  so  often  the  case  with  Cima,  no  pro- 
nounced feeling  nor  expression  emanated  from  the 
persons;  but  there  were  dreamy  atmosphere,  soft,  har- 
monious coloring,  and  a  pensive,  happy  restfulness. 
"In  the  background  .  .  .  the  models  of  architecture 
and  ornament  are  taken  from  the  cupola  chapels  of 
S.  Marco;  the  Virgin's  head  is  of  a  regular  Bellinesque 
type,  and  the  angels  .  .  .  seem  inspired  from  those 
of  Giovanni  Bellini."1 

In  the  wall  of  the  chapel  to  the  left  of  the  choir,  the 
priests  had  recently  constructed  a  grotto  of  imitation 
rock,  placed  within  it  a  brand-new  wax  Madonna,  and 
hung  the  sides  of  it  with  many  silver-gilt  hearts;  then 
the  story  was  sent  abroad  that  miracles  had  been 
worked  by  the  figure,  and  it  found  countless  prompt 
believers,  as  such  yarns  always  do  in  Italy.  Already 
the  Madonna  had  her  throng  of  devotees,  —  of  whom 
I  s;iw  several  kneeling  before  the  grotto,  —  and  had 
receive"  1  a  lot  of  true  testimonials  and  valuable  gifts. 

I  emerged  and  walked  about  the  streets  for  a  while, 
looking  mainly  at  I  he  fragments  of  frescoes  on  facades, 
in  which  Conegliano  abounds.  The  famous  old  house 
qf  the  BorgO  della  Madonna  was  ('.specially  interest- 
ing,—  a  three-storied  structure  rising  on  the  usual 
arcade,  having  I  he  spandrils  of  its  arches  painted  with 
brighl    pictures,  and  varied  cinquecento  tracery  over 

lh<-    upper    stories.     'Hie    identity    of    the   artist    was 
shown  by  a  shield  of  ;irnis  supported  by  ;in  angel,  with 

1  ( Irowe  and  <  !avalcaselle. 


232  PLAIN  TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

the  word  "  Darius,"  —  the  same  Dario  who  worked  at 
Treviso.  There  are,  I  was  told,  other  paintings  inside 
the  house;  but  it  was  closed  and  I  could  not  enter.  I 
found  a  number  of  other  old  facades  almost  as  pleas- 
ing, of  varied  age  and  excellence,  some  having  mot- 
toes with  the  pictures;  many  were  in  a  state  of  preserva- 
tion beyond  that  of  other  towns,  and  the  figures  were 
well  modeled  for  such  decorative  work,  though  stiff 
and  gaudily  colored. 

Finally,  returning  to  the  central  piazza,  I  started 
up  the  narrow  way  beside  the  theatre,  to  climb  to  the 
castle.  After  passing  the  two  higher  streets  parallel 
with  the  main  one,  it  turned  to  the  left,  and  mounted 
beside  the  old  wall  of  circumvallation,  steadily  and 
steeply,  till  a  chapel  was  reached  near  the  top,  —  a 
quaint  little  old  chapel,  called  the  Madonna  of  the 
Snows;  a  pretty  name,  which  indicates  the  severity  of 
the  winters  here.  Now  the  path  turned  somewhat  to 
the  right  again,  between  high  garden  walls,  which 
prevented  any  sight  of  the  classic  villa  that  I  had 
observed  from  below,  and  brought  me  to  the  summit 
at  the  very  foot  of  the  castle  wall,  in  the  shadow  of 
the  great  tower  looming  far  into  the  blue. 

Alas,  this  tower  proved  to  be  all  that  was  left  of  the 
once  powerful  fortress.  It  had  been  the  donjon-keep, 
rising  upon  the  east,  or  town  side,  of  the  quadrangular 
fortification;  but  of  all  the  rest  naught  remained  ex- 
cept the  outline  of  the  quadrilateral,  marked  by  walls 
of  the  old  stones  that  wrere  but  shadows  of  the  original, 
-  all  around  which  soared  lines  of  spear-like  cypresses. 
The  entrance  was  by  a  gate  in  the  middle  of  the  north 
side.  Within,  where  formerly  had  stood  around  the 
courtyard  palatial  stone  buildings  full  of  the  splendor 
of  Venetian  might,  now  lay  amidst  the  shadowy 
cypresses  only  a  ruinous  graveyard  of  falling  head- 


FROM  TREVISO  TO  UDIXE  233 

stones.  Gone  were  the  great  halls,  the  hundreds  of 
chambers,  the  courts,  the  stables,  the  battlemented 
walls,  the  guarding  towers,  —  gone  so  long  that  the 
very  memory  of  their  centuries  of  glory  had  faded 
from  the  people's  minds,  and  the  cemetery  which  had 
taken  their  place  had  fallen  to  a  like  decrepitude. 
Even  the  custodian  was  an  aged,  tottering  wreck  of 
a  human  being. 

The  keep,  to  whose  foot  he  led  me,  had  been  pre- 
served through  the  superior  massiveness  of  its  con- 
struction. Attached  to  its  base  lingered  also  two  or 
three  ancient  chambers,  in  which  the  custode  dwelt, 
with  his  family.  I  climbed  the  tower,  from  one  square 
loft  to  another,  by  ladder-like  stairs  mounting  from 
successive  rough-boarded  floors  to  similar  ceilings; 
and  stopped  in  one  compartment  to  study  some  pa- 
pers affixed  to  the  wall.  One  of  these  was  a  complete 
plan  of  the  original  fortress,  intensely  interesting, 
showing  every  portion  and  use  of  the  vast  structure; 
the  others  were  photogravures  of  two  of  Cima's  most 
renowned  pictures,  in  whose  background  were  clear 
views  of  the  castle  as  it  looked  in  his  day,  —  a  mighty, 
dark  mass  of  towers  and  curtains,  crowning  the  sugar- 
loaf  hill. 

At  the  summit  a  splendid  panorama  lay  spread 
around  me,  —  the  city  at  my  feet,  the  hazy  plain 
stretching  to  indefinite  distance,  sparkling  with  white- 
walled  farms  and  villages;  the  rounded  hills  upon  the 
other  side,  glowing  with  cultivated  meadows,  eopses 
of  woods,  and  charming  villas,  —  divided  by  luxuriant 
vales,  and  rising  gradually  to  the  mountain-peaks, 
bare  and  serrated.  From  I  he  red  roofs  below  came  the 

rattle   of   drums,   and    a    chorus   of   bugles   playing   a 

lively  air,  to  the  march  of  some  unseen  company; 
reminding  me  again  of  the  bloody  sword  of  M.irs  ever 


234  PLAIN    TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

hovering  over  this  lovely  landscape.    The  Teutons 

may  come  in  their  legions  again,  some  day,  down  this 
highway  to  the  richest  of  all  plains,  as  they  have  come 
so  many  times  during  the  centuries. 

Descending,  I  made  the  circuit  of  the  walls,  by  the 
tall  dark  cypresses,  discovering  on  the  south  side  a 
picturesque  modern  villa  with  most  attractive  garden, 
and  at  the  northwest  corner  a  partly  destroyed  round 
tower  of  extraordinary  thickness,  where  once  the  pow- 
der of  the  fortress  was  kept.  Outside  the  walls  upon 
the  north  was  an  open  space  once  used  for  the  parade, 
where  the  views  of  the  surrounding  vales  and  hills 
were  more  uninterrupted  than  from  the  keep.  To  the 
northwest  I  saw  the  mountain-wall  open  like  a  wedge, 
admitting  a  valley  that  crept  from  the  plain  far  into 
its  bosom;  that  was  where  I  was  going,  to  Ceneda  and 
Serravalle  at  the  head  of  that  fair  valley.  It  was  the 
old  route  to  Belluno  and  the  north. 

But  first  there  was  another  trip  to  be  made;  and 
returning  as  I  had  mounted,  to  the  piazza  of  Conegli- 
ano,  I  secured  a  rig  for  the  modest  sum  of  six  francs, 
with  a  sleepy  boy  for  a  driver,  and  set  out  southward 
upon  the  great  highway  to  Treviso.  For  once  the  horse 
was  a  lively  one,  —  I  had  bargained  for  that,  —  and 
we  rattled  between  the  buildings  of  the  modern  south- 
ern extension  of  the  town,  into  a  suburb  of  recent 
upper-class  villas,  like  that  I  had  seen  at  Treviso,  — 
scattered  over  sunny  lawns,  with  colors  that  could  be 
heard  miles  away.  The  road  between  them,  stretching 
straightaway  to  the  southwest  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  was  a  beautiful  vista  between  giant  plane  trees, 
which  spread  their  welcome  shade  overhead  and  gave 
intermittent  glimpses  of  the  lovely  hills  upon  the  right. 
What  wonderful  roads  are  these  of  Italy;  this  one  had 
a  surface  perfectly  curved  from  the  centre  down  to 


I- 

- 


H 


H 
I 


z 


0 
H 


: 
o 

N 


g 


FROM  TREVISO  TO  UDINE  235 

the  draining-ditches  on  the  sides,  from  which  it  was 
separated  by  round  granite  posts  every  few  yards,  — 
a  vast  expense.  It  was  macadamized  as  hard  as  stone, 
doubtless  upon  the  original  Roman  foundation  deep 
below,  —  twenty  centuries  old,  and  as  strong  as  ever; 
and  no  dust  rose  from  it  to  disturb  the  traveler.  Every 
one  or  two  hundred  yards  was  a  heap  of  broken  stones, 
- — material  for  repair,  always  kept  at  hand.  An  ab- 
solutely perfect  highway,  —  yet  no  different  from  the 
others  which  lead  over  every  Italian  township,  except 
in  these  two  extraordinary  rows  of  planes,  closely 
planted  and  of  tall  height,  beautiful  as  a  dream,  all 
descendants  of  that  one  old  monarch  in  the  garden  of 
Padua. 

Like  a  dream,  too,  were  the  vistas  that  they  afforded 
of  the  accompanying  hills.  Backward  rose  the  height 
of  the  fortress,  with  its  grim  tower  and  columned  villa 
and  circling  spires  of  cypresses;  next  it  soared  a  cul- 
tivated mount,  then  one  topped  by  a  castle  with  com- 
plete, gray,  battlemented  walls  and  keep,  ensconced  in 
luxuriant  foliage;  and  so  they  stretched  on,  hill  after 
hill,  parallel  with  the  road  and  far  away  toward  the 
mountains,  smiling  with  bright  fields,  green  vineyards, 
and  gray  olive  groves,  picturesque  with  dark  patches 
of  wood  and  towered  castles,  glistening  with  fair  white 
villas  amongst  the  trees,  —  while  ever  in  the  back- 
ground, in  contrasting  majesty,  soared  the  precipitous 
bare  flanks  of  the  Venetian  Alps. 

After  four  or  five  miles  of  this  delightful  scenery  we 

came  to  the  little  cross-roads  village  of  Susegana, 

scattered  with  modern  houses  at  I  lie  foot  of  a  hill 
that  stood  somewhal  forward  and  separated  from  the 
chain.  I'p  this  last  wound  an  avenue  of  shady  horse- 
chestnuts,  and  on  its  summit  stood  ;i  castle  grander 
than  any  I  had  yet  beheld.    It  was  S.  Sal  vat  ore,  the 


236  PLAIN    TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

famous  seal  of  the  groat  family  of  the  Colalti,  possess- 
ors of  this  village  and  all  the  countryside  far  and  wide; 
—  one  of  the  few  medieval  chateaux  that  still  remain, 
intact  and  occupied,  attached  to  the  original  name 
and  fortune:  — 

That  old  pile, 
Which  flunks  the  cliff  with  its  gray  battlements 
Flung  here  and  there,  and,  like  an  eagle's  nest, 
Hangs  in  the  Trevisan.1 

The  Counts  of  Colalto,  centuries  ago,  obtained  this 
royal  residence  at  the  cost  of  much  blood  and  strug- 
gle, and  afterwards  fought  bravely  in  the  wars  of 
Venice;  from  father  to  son  it  has  steadily  descended 
all  these  generations,  who  have  manifested  such  ex- 
ceptional wisdom  and  prudence  that  the  present 
count  still  enjoys  the  estates  of  his  first  noble  ances- 
tor. Their  name  itself  came  from  this  height  where 
they  first  took  residence:  "Giovanni  di  Col-alto"  was 
simply  "John  of  the  high  hill."2 

At  the  top  of  the  shady  avenue  we  reached  a  level 
space  just  below  the  walls,  surrounded  by  later  dwell- 
ings of  the  family's  retainers,  and,  at  its  end,  a  gate- 
way in  the  fortification.  Here  an  old  servant  made 
his  appearance,  to  whom  I  transmitted  my  desire;  he 
vanished  for  a  while,  reappeared,  and  stated  that  the 
family  were  away  and  the  majordomo  had  therefore 

1  Rogers,  Italy. 

2  Of  all  the  blue-blooded  families  of  Europe,  the  Colalti  are,  beyond 
question,  one  of  the  purest  and  most  ancient,  —  tracing  their  line  unbrok- 
enly  to  the  sixth  century.  They  were,  says  Manzoni,  "one  of  the  most 
noble  and  illustrious  families  that  King  Alboin  (of  the  Lombards)  brought 
with  him  into  Italy;  and  he  left  them  in  Friuli.  They  are  of  allied  blood 
with  the  princely  house  of  Brandenburg.  Charlemagne  confirmed  their 
jurisdiction  and  fief,  and  his  successors  did  the  same.  A  great  number  of 
them  distinguished  themselves,  in  war  and  in  churchly  dignities,  and  they 
have  also  been  distinguished  by  their  illustrious  connections  with  the 
principal  families  of  Italy."  —  Annali  del  Friuli. 


FROM  TREVISO  TO  UDINE  237 

consented  to  my  seeing  the  main  courtyard  and  the 
chapel.  Once  more  I  was  in  luck.  The  old  man,  court- 
eous in  manners,  like  most  servants  of  high  Italian 
houses,  led  me  over  the  ancient  drawbridge,  under  the 
portcullis,  still  ready  to  descend,  and  up  a  sloping 
graveled  way  that  wound  between  the  base  of  the 
castle  and  the  edge  of  a  precipice  on  the  northwest 
side;  there  had  been  no  danger  of  attack  here,  and  so 
there  was  but  a  small  parapet  topping  the  abyss. 
How  many  generations  of  gleaming  knights  and  medi- 
eval cavalcades  had  wound  down  this  same  approach, 
with  glistening  steel  and  pennons,  on  destrier  and 
palfrey. 

It  curved  to  the  west  along  the  summit's  western 
edge,  passed  through  another  gateway,  and  entered  a 
long,  wide,  stately  court,  faced  upon  the  east  by  a  line 
of  palatial  edifices,  four  and  five  stories  in  height;  on 
the  right  it  first  jutted  out  over  the  precipice  into 
a  little  garden,  —  commanding  splendid  views  of  the 
vale  below  and  the  girdling  chain  of  hills,  where 
doubtless  the  ladies  were  used  to  sit  in  the  afternoons 
of  long  ago,  — and  then  was  walled  in  by  a  quaint  lit- 
tle church  of  simple  lines,  with  its  right  side  upon  the 
court.  At  the  opposite  end  of  the  flagged  area  rose 
another  palace,  faced  by  a  monumental  flight  of  steps 
adorned  with  statues,  at  whose  head  opened  a  large 
archway  closed  by  handsome  iron  gates;  and  through 
the  latter  was  visible  a  lovely  rose-garden,  backed  by 
a  Renaissance  wall  surmounted  charmingly  by  a  row 
of  marble  divinities. 

I  -topped  to  enjoy  this  attractive  vista;  then  exam- 
ined more  attentively  the  buildings  on  the  left.  They 
were  of  several  differenl  styles  and  epochs,  not  archi- 
tecturally ornate,  but  fairly  proportioned  and  impos- 
ing; theoldesl  portion  of  all  the  present  buildings  had 


2S8  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

beeD  at  the  north  end  of  this  line,  —  so  they  told  me, 

—  dating  from  about  lc200,  but  was  only  lately  entirely 
rebuilt,  with  the  exception  of  a  massive  outside  stair- 
way of  Romanesque  days  which  still  led  to  the  main 
doorway  in  the  first  floor.  The  other  structures  were 
covered  upon  their  extensive  stretches  of  plaster  by 
modern  frescoing,  —  designs  in  grisaille,  which  had 
rather  a  tasteful  effect. 

The  old  servant  opened  the  chapel  for  me,  whose 
interior  of  cracked  and  crumbling  stucco  clearly  dated 
also  from  the  thirteenth  century,  and  was  covered 
from  end  to  end  with  bright-hued  frescoes  of  different 
ages.  It  was  a  joy  to  my  eyes,  —  a  typical  private 
chapel  of  medieval  grandees.  The  little  nave  was 
filled  with  the  rude  benches  on  which  the  retainers  had 
heard  mass  for  hundreds  of  years,  excepting  the  space 
in  the  centre  of  the  right  side  occupied  by  the  great 
family  pew,  surrounded  by  a  heavy  rectangular  rail- 
ing; the  seats  within  the  latter  were  nearly  as  rude  as 
those  without,  but  of  course  my  ladies  had  always 
cushions  carried  by  their  maids.  Opposite  to  this, 
against  the  left  wall,  was  a  stone  tomb  of  some  Colalto 
of  the  time  of  the  Crusades;  and  another  tomb  was 
against  the  end  wall,  behind  the  simple  high-altar. 

Under  this  flagged  floor,  if  the  legend  of  Samuel 
Rogers  were  true,  lay  long  hid  from  human  ken  a 
sepulchre  of  horror,  a  subterranean  vault  containing 
the  pier  in  which,  hundreds  of  years  ago,  the  "White 
Lady"  who  haunted  the  castle  was  walled  alive. 
Rogers  has  told  the  story  well  in  his  verses  upon 
"  Coll'  Alto  " : *  she  was  a  maid,  gentle  and  fair,  named 

1  Rogers,  Italy.  Many  critics,  T  know,  consider  it  to  have  been  a  fab- 
rication  <>f  the  poet,  —  according  to  his  wont.  The  incident  of  the  mirror, 
certainly,  may  have  come  from  the  similar  legend  of  the  Castello  Estense 
at  Ferrara. 


FROM  TREVISO  TO  UDINE  239 

Cristine,  of  a  melancholy  habit,  dressed  always  in 
spotless  white  like  a  nun,  and  was  tiring-woman  to 
the  countess  of  her  day.  The  latter,  seated  one 
evening  before  her  mirror,  submitting  her  hair  to  the 
ministrations  of  the  maid,  bade  a  farewell  to  her  noble 
lord,  who  was  leaving  on  a  journey;  then  turning  to 
the  glass,  she  caught,  as  she  thought,  a  reflection 
of  — 

A  smile,  a  glance  at  parting,  given  and  answered, 
That  turned  her  blood  to  gall.  —  That  very  night 
The  deed  was  done.  — 

They  led  her  forth,  the  unhappy  lost  Cristine, 
Helping  her  down  in  her  distress  —  to  die. 
No  blood  was  spilt.  —  Fresh  as  a  flower  just  blown, 
And  warm  with  life,  her  youthful  pulses  playing, 
She  was  walled  up  within  the  castle  wall  — 
Under  the  chapel.  —  There  nightly  at  that  hour, 
In  her  white  veil  and  vesture  white  she  stands 
Shuddering  —  her  eyes  uplifted  and  her  hands 
Joined  as  in  prayer;  then  like  a  blessed  soul 
Bursting  the  tomb,  springs  forward,  and  away 
Flies  o'er  the  woods  and  mountains.    Issuing  forth, 
The  hunter  meets  her  in  his  hunting-track; 
The  shepherd  on  the  heath,  starting,  exclaims  — 
Tis  the  White  Lady! 

I  could  not  learn  that  the  people  of  the  castle,  or 
those  of  the  countryside,  believe  in  the  legend,  nor 
that  any  of  them  have  ever  beheld  the  ghost.  Rogers 
added  that  in  his  day  one  old  retainer,  hunting,  saw- 
it  in  the  morning  mists,  and  was  so  terrified  thai  he 
never  went  forth  again;  also  that  the  very  mirror 
which  occasioned  all  the  mischief  was  still  to  be  seen. 

Along  I  he  right  wall  of  I  he  chapel,  be!  ween  the  win- 
dows, and  on  the  entrance  wall  over  the  doorway,  ran 
a  series  of  quaint  figures  and  tableaux  of  the  Ircccnlo, 
more  or  less  obliterated,  wit  h  Giottesque  saintly  heads 
and  forms  emerging  from  the  ruin  here  and  there,  in 
restful,  haloed    simplicity,        their  broad,  light   hues 


240  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

and  gilding  commingling  in  one  general,  sweet,  golden 
tone.  Hut  on  the  left  wall  —  what  a  contrast!  Over 
its  free  spaces  rioted  the  huge  figures,  bold  actions 
and  high  colors  of  the  Late-Renaissance,  —  bull-like 
forms  of  reddish  flesh,  in  long-hose  and  puffed  sleeves, 
energetically  enacting  scenes  from  the  New  Testament, 
—  the  familiar  forms  of  Pordenone.  Here  were  the 
Magi,  Annunciation,  Journey  to  Egypt,  Raising  of 
Lazarus,  and  Meeting  with  the  Magdalen.  On  the 
rear  wall  was  the  last  Judgment;  on  the  rear  portion 
of  the  right  wall,  St.  Jerome,  and  the  Salutation  of 
Elizabeth;  and  on  the  ceiling,  the  four  Evangelists. 
They  were  badly  injured,  and  did  not  seem  well  com- 
posed, nor  of  much  expression  or  feeling;  but  they  were 
of  course  quite  decorative,  and  finely  modeled,  with 
individual  figures  of  considerable  grace.  The  form 
of  the  Madonna  was  always  sweet  and  attractive;  and 
the  Flight  into  Egypt  showed  somewhat  more  merit 
than  the  rest.  But  I  was  disappointed  by  their  wretched 
condition,  which  hindered  any  decent  appreciation. 

It  was  for  these  paintings  I  had  come,  but  that 
which  proved  of  far  more  enjoyment  was  the  visit 
which  I  now  paid  to  the  castle  proper;  the  majordomo 
yielded  to  my  persuasions,  and  opened  the  sacred 
precincts.  Penetrating  the  eastern  buildings  by  a 
passage  in  the  ground  floor,  I  found  on  their  farther 
side,  above  the  ramparts,  a  long  narrow  garden  of  ex- 
ceeding loveliness,  —  beds  of  flowers,  and  fine  shrubs, 
with  geometrically  winding  paths;  a  stone  circular 
fountain  adorned  its  centre,  filled  with  goldfish,  and 
an  enormous  yew  tree  of  great  age  shaded  its  northern 
end.  The  plastered  walls  of  the  castle  looked  down 
with  hues  as  gay  as  the  flowers,  —  frescoes  of  gods 
and  goddesses  and  cherubs,  floating  upon  clouds,  in 
the  high  flesh-tints  of  Pordenone;  queer  designs,  of 


FROM  TREVISO  TO  UDINE  241 

no  discernible  aims,  and  not  especially  attractive. 
Most  pleasing  of  all  was  the  view,  from  the  garden 
parapet,  of  the  grounds  below;  thick  trees  swept 
around  with  the  circling  enceinture  of  the  castle  walls 
at  twenty  to  thirty  yards'  distance,  hiding  the  outer 
battlements  and  the  rest  of  the  hill,  and  forming  a 
pleasant  screen  for  the  privacy  of  the  noble  family; 
and  within  them,  ten  yards  or  so  below,  lay  another 
beautiful  garden,  shining  like  a  jewel-case,  with  hand- 
some palms  and  orange  and  lemon  trees.  Over  the 
waving  tops  of  the  surrounding  foliage  was  visible 
the  wide  luxuriant  plain,  stretching  into  the  hazy 
distance. 

From  this  idyllic  scene,  I  stepped  through  a  door- 
way near  the  yew  into  the  main  hall  of  the  castle,  in 
the  renovated  wing.  A  magnificent  white  stone  stair- 
way in  three  divisions  led  to  the  upper  hall,  which 
opened  grandly  on  the  staircase  well;  the  ascent  was 
commanded  by  a  life-size  portrait  of  a  dignified  elderly 
gentleman,  with  a  small  white  beard,  and  features  of 
much  pride  and  benevolence.  It  was  the  present  Count 
Colalto,  who,  they  told  me,  did  not  belie  his  counten- 
ance, being  a  man  of  exemplary  kindness,  and  well 
beloved;1  he  and  his  family  were  at  present  at  their 
palace  in  Vienna,  where  they  spend  most  of  their  time, 
—  visiting  the  castle  only  during  the  summer  months 
and  late  autumn.  He  has  other  palaces  at  Gratz, 
Paris,  Venice,  Rome,  and  the  Riviera,  which  also  ab- 
sorb much  of  his  leisure.  Such  is  the  life  of  a  modern 
nobleman  of  wealth.  The  upper  hall  was  richly  de- 
corated, in  contrast  to  the  bare,  polished,  stone  walls, 

1  The  Count  exemplifies  that  hereditary  virtue  which  has  enabled  his 
long  line  to  continue  30  well  the  family  health,  possessions,  and  dignities. 
His  benevolence  is  both  deep  and  practical,  being  shown  in  model  dairies, 
factory  buildings,  etc.,  upon  his  different  estates,  —  one  of  which  I  saw  at 
the  foot  of  the  hill,  on  my  departure. 


242  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

with  old  rugs,  vases,  tapestries,  and  paintings;  among 
the  latter  being  a  lovely,  early  quattrocento  panel  of 
the  Madonna  adoring  her  Child,  and  two  good  can- 
vases,  dated  U!>!  and  1510,  by  little-known  artists, 
one  of  them  including  a  Madonna  of  extraordinary 
beauty.  The  furniture  was  worthy  of  inspection,  being 
fine,  modern,  Venetian  imitations  of  carved  medieval 
chairs  and  settees;  so  that  the  whole  salon  was  a  per- 
fect reproduction  of  a  castle  hall  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
Near  by  I  was  shown  a  room  that  was  a  delightful 
example  of  the  trecento,  —  its  walls  completely  cov- 
ered with  light,  Giottesque  frescoes,  the  beams  of  its 
wooden  ceiling  painted  with  designs,  the  furniture  all 
careful  imitations  of  that  period.  I  was  not  admitted 
to  the  other  buildings  of  this  row,  wdiere  the  family 
and  their  guests  dwell,  but  learned  that  the  rooms 
were  decorated  and  furnished  in  various  styles  of  the 
past  two  centuries,  and  contained  a  number  of  valu- 
able old  masters.  They  took  me  to  the  edifice  at  the 
end  of  the  courtyard,  which  dates  from  the  sixteenth 
century,  and  is  now  little  used.  On  its  first  floor  front 
was  the  Salle  d'Armes,  composed  entirely  of  arms  and 
armor  used  by  the  Colalti  and  their  followers  in  the 
wars  of  the  Renaissance  period,  —  bearing  the  dents 
of  the  blows  of  sword  and  musket-ball,  and  other  ev- 
idences of  long  use.  Amongst  every  kind  of  medieval 
implement,  especially  interesting  were  the  battle- 
axes  and  truncheons,  which  few  men  of  to-day  could 
wield,  the  engraved  corselets,  the  curious  early  com- 
bi  nations  of  spear  and  pistol  (the  latter  set  in  the 
shaft),  the  long  narrow  bronze  cannons,  the  clumsy 
arquebuses  and  other  primitive  guns,  and  the  com- 
plete equestrian  suits  of  mail  upon  mounted  knightly 
figures.  But  what  made  them  all  of  an  interest  far 
beyond  that  of  such  collections  in  museums,  was  the 


FROM  TREVISO  TO  UDINE  243 

knowledge  that  they  had  stood  the  brunt  of  many  a 
battle,  upon  the  shoulders  and  in  the  hands  of  the  men 
who  had  lived  in  this  same  castle,  —  the  ancestors  of 
those  here  to-day. 

On  the  ceiling  of  the  well  of  the  grand  staircase  lead- 
ing to  this  hall  I  saw  a  large  round  fresco  by  Tiepolo, 
in  his  usual  airy  manner,  and  in  the  disused  chambers 
at  the  side,  other  examples  of  his  work,  amidst  profuse 
decorations  in  the  Pompeian  style.  From  the  last 
room  a  door  admitted  me  to  the  terrace  above  the 
rear  of  the  charming  rose-garden,  and  to  the  company 
of  its  rows  of  statues;  thence  there  was  another  beauti- 
ful view,  of  the  tree-lined  battlements  below,  the 
ordered  gardens  adjacent  to  them  on  the  slope  with- 
out, which  seemed  to  girdle  the  whole  enceinture  with 
their  flowered  walks,  —  and  the  lustrous  vale  and  smil- 
ing hills  upon  the  south.  What  a  perfect  elysium  was 
this  castle  in  the  air,  richer  than  a  castle  in  Spain  be- 
cause endowed  with  the  glorious  dome  and  caressing 
sun  of  Italy,  —  the  embodied  realization  of  one's  fond- 
est fancies,  lovelier  than  any  dream  in  its  circling  flow- 
ered terraces  and  shady  groves,  suspended  above  this 
enchanting  landscape,  thrilling  with  its  countless 
memories  of  centuries  of  history  and  ancestral  associ- 
ation-! It  will  linger  with  me  ever,  as  one  of  the 
happiesl  remembrances  of  my  life. 

I  returned  to  Conegliano  by  the  stately  avenue  of 
planes,  Stopping  for  a  few  minutes  at  I  lie  parish  church 
of  Susegana  to  see  its  altar-piece,  which  is  a  pietistic 
tableau  by  Por< lenone,  in  better  preserve t ion  and 
pleasingly  effective;   and    by  five  o'clock    I   was  again 

rolling  north  ward  on  a  train,  into  thai  extensive  valley 

thai    penetrates    like  a    \\e<|-e    the     \lpine    Willi,    to    the 

foot  of  the  Col  Vicentin.  The  track  followed  the  west- 
ern  side  of   the   Vale,   along   the  .slopes   rising  near  at 


Sit  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

hand,  until  a  height,  jutting  far  into  the  plain  like  a 
peninsula,  rose  before  our  path  and  sent  us  curving 
round  its  headland.  Looking  up  to  its  long  summit,  I 
saw  near  the  end  three  separate  old  castles  perched 
upon  it,  two  of  them  in  far  advanced  and  picturesque 
ruin,  the  third  still  strong  with  towers  and  battle- 
ments and  shining  casements.  At  the  foot  of  the  de- 
clivity, upon  the  level,  here  somewhat  narrowed  be- 
tween the  headland  and  the  opposite  wall,  glistened 
the  red  roofs  of  many  houses,  whose  white  facades  and 
campanili  flocked  about  us  as  we  slowed  to  a  stop. 
A  neighbor  informed  me  that  this  was  Ceneda,  that 
the  surviving  castle  overhead  was  inhabited  by  its 
bishop,  and  the  larger  of  the  ruined  ones  had  been 
that  of  the  medieval  seigneurs.1 

There  is  always  a  reason  for  the  existence,  or  loca- 
tion, of  an  Italian  town;  and  I  saw  at  once  how  Ce- 
neda had  first  come  into  being,  —  because  of  this  neck 
through  which  the  highway  of  the  North  was  forced, 
commanded  of  old  by  the  fortress  on  the  height.  Be- 
yond it,  when  we  resumed  our  course,  the  level  ground 
opened  wide  again,  into  a  basin  that  was  a  glowing 
treasure-house  of  richest  fields  and  vineyards,  and 
prosperous  dwellings  lining  shady  roads.  It  was  excep- 
tionally luxuriant,  even  for  Italy,  being  protected 
from  cold  winds  by  the  enfolding  mountains,  which 
narrowed  soon  again  as  we  proceeded  to  the  end;  and  it 

1  The  Conti  di  Ceneda  are  another  very  ancient  and  illustrious  family, 
of  Lombard  origin;  being  descended  from  a  certain  Count  Giovanni,  to 
whom  in  739  King  Luitprand  granted  the  fief  of  Ceneda,  together,  with 
many  others.  His  descendants  devolved  the  actual  government  of  the 
little  city  upon  its  Bishop,  as  a  feudatory,  who  held  sway  for  centuries, 
until  replaced  by  the  family  of  Camino.  The  Counts  themselves  continued 
to  occupy  the  castle  on  the  hill  until  comparatively  modern  times,  when 
it  was  suffered  to  fall  to  pieces,  and  they  removed  to  one  of  their  other 
residences;  having  evidently  preserved  a  part  of  their  possessions  through 
all  vicissitudes. 


FROM  TREVISO  TO  UDINE  245 

was  thickly  settled  as  one  continuous,  spreading  vil- 
lage. In  fact,  it  is  now  all  one  incorporated  city,  three 
or  four  miles  in  length;  for  the  town  of  Ceneda  was 
in  the  year  1879  joined  with  that  of  Serravalle  at  the 
apex  of  the  valley,  forming  a  total  population  of 
twenty-two  thousand  souls,  including  all  the  country- 
side between;  and  it  has  been  renamed  as  one  unit, 
after  the  liberating  King,  —  Vittorio. 

I  descended  at  the  terminal  station,  to  find  myself 
still  a  full  mile  and  more  below  the  ancient  burg  of 
Serravalle.  Wishing  to  stop  at  its  heart,  I  disdained 
the  temptations  of  the  modern  first-class  hotel  opposite 
the  station,  where  I  saw  gayly  dressed  Italians  loung- 
ing in  pleasant  grounds,  —  a  genuine  summer-resort, 
—  and  taking  an  omnibus,  was  ported  up  the  long 
straight  highway  to  the  head  of  the  vale,  where  clus- 
tered thickly  the  tall  old  houses  of  the  original  town, 
within  their  medieval  walls.  We  entered  the  walls  by  a 
four-storied,  battlemented,  stone  and  stucco  gateway, 
which  was  also  the  municipal  clock-  and  bell-tower, 
and  over  whose  battlements  loomed  imposingly  the 
vast  mountain-sides  ahead,  black  with  forests.  Within, 
the  highway  became  a  narrow  medieval  street,  dark- 
ened by  picturesque  stuccoed  dwellings  rising  upon 
arcades,  and  finally  debouched  into  the  town's 
piazza,  just  beyond  the  inn  which  I  was  seeking. 

It  was  a  typical  country  hostelry,  of  the  third  class, 
entered  by  a  dark  driveway  under  the  arcade,  with 
the  eating-rooms  on  the  left  of  the  passage,  and  the 
kitchen  in  the  rear  beside  the  stable-yard.  The  boni- 
face,  who  proved  a  very  agreeable  man  and  most 
anxious  to  please,  led  me  to  one  of  the  two  front 
chambers  on  the  first  floor,  which  was  meagrely  furn- 
ished with  an  iron  bed  and  washstand,  an  old  wooden 
dresser,  and  single  chair;  but  it  had  the  chief  desidera- 


246  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

turn,  clean  linen,  and  was  certainly  cheap  at  the 
price,  a  franc  and  a  quarter.  I  settled  my  belongings, 
and  walked  out  again  to  the  street  and  the  near-by 
piazza. 

The  high  old  stuccoed  houses  changed  their  simple 
dress  as  they  approached  this  centre  of  the  town,  to 
an  ornateness  that  surprised  me,  —  displaying  fine 
Renaissance  windows  and  balconies,  and  Gothic  de- 
tails still  more  pleasing.  On  the  left  of  the  opening  of 
the  square,  I  was  arrested  by  a  Gothic  palace  of  mag- 
nificent design:  above  a  colonnade  of  pointed  arches 
rose  a  piano  nobile  of  colonnaded  Gothic  windows 
stretching  clear  across  the  facade,  upon  marble  shafts 
with  elaborate  foliage-capitals;  two  lights  larger  than 
the  others  occupied  the  centre,  opening  upon  a  lovely 
Gothic  marble  balcony;  in  the  third  story  were  two 
single  windows,  and  one  quadruple,  of  similar  form;  all 
of  them  were  slightly  ogive,  and  decorated  upon  the 
tip  of  the  point  with  little  vase-like  reliefs;  while  at 
the  summit  this  delightful  construction  was  crowned 
by  a  well-proportioned  cornice.  Here  the  piazza  ex- 
panded easterly  from  the  street,  which  kept  straight 
on  along  the  left  flank  of  a  hill  that  loomed  up  in  the 
very  apex  of  the  vale;  from  the  eastern  end  of  the 
square  another  street  led  up  a  defile,  passing  the  hill 
on  that  side;  and  over  the  height  between  them 
extended  a  whole  section  of  the  ancient  town. 

Very  soon  the  situation  was  made  clear  to  me:  here 
was  the  oldest,  original  quarter  of  Serravalle,  perched 
upon  this  eminence  that  blocked  the  pass  to  the  north; 
—  a  better  medieval  position  could  hardly  be  con- 
ed ved.  After  the  earliest  days  the  town  had  crept 
down  into  the  valley,  eventually  forming  its  central 
piazza  out  of  what  had  doubtless  been  at  first  its 
market-place  outside  the  southern  walls.   The  square 


FROM  TREVISO  TO  UDINE  247 

was  surrounded  by  three-  and  four-storied,  stucco 
buildings  of  Renaissance  times,  with  goodly  stone  bal- 
conies and  columned  windows  above  the  ground-floor 
colonnades,  —  except  at  the  eastern  end,  where  it  was 
flanked  by  a  dashing  stream;  over  this  a  short  stone 
bridge  led  to  another  open  space  beside  the  large 
Cathedral.  The  latter  was  of  ugly,  bare,  plastered 
walls,  with  its  entrance  door  apparently  in  its  apse, 
westward  turned,  before  which  from  the  very  bank  of 
the  stream  rose  the  heavy  detached  campanile,  — 
also  plastered,  and  terminating  in  an  octagonal  lan- 
tern and  red-tiled  spire.  But  that  which  gave  to  the 
whole  piazza  a  dignity  and  picturesqueness  of  excep- 
tional strength,  was  the  towering  closely,  upon  its 
three  sides,  of  the  mighty,  precipitous  mountain-walls, 
which  loomed  far  overhead,  with  rocky  crags  and 
black,  wooded  summits,  hemming  in  the  shadowed 
vale  like  a  canyon.  Strange  indeed  was  this  effect, 
of  Alpine  grandeur  and  wildness  glowering  down  upon 
the  very  roofs  of  a  town-square. 

On  the  left  hand,  perched  upon  one  precipitous  crag, 
sat  the  ruins  of  a  gray  stone  building,  said  to  have  been 
a  castle  of  the  Counts  of  Ceneda,  bv  which  thev 
guarded  the  precious  northern  road  and  exacted  heavy 
toll  from  the  passing  travelers.  Well  underneath  it, 
extensive  landslides  had  scarified  the  mountain's  face, 
and  made  the  scene  more  awesome;  and  just  at  its 
foot,  in  the  piazza's  northwestern  angle,  sat  the  pic- 
turesque  old  Palazzo  Municipale,  a  quaint  relic  of 
the  trecento.  A  deep,  shadowy  loggia  occupied  its 
ground  floor,  behind  three  round  arches  on  Gothic 
marble  columns;  over  the  centre  of  the  latter  was  the 
ringhiera,  with  a  Gothic  marble  balustrade,  and  on 
each  side  of  it  a  charming  triple  window  of  trefoil 
arches;  while  beside  t  he  palace  rose  a  curious  old  tower 


218  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

upon  a  pointed  archway,  capped  by  a  Renaissance 
belfry,  and  covered,  on  its  falling  plaster,  with  many 
shields  of  bygone  syndics  or  podestas.  The  remains  of 
the  Venetian  Lion  still  lingered  over  the  ringhiera; 
and  upon  the  walls  of  the  loggia  shone  the  softened 
colors  of  fragments  of  old  frescoes,  including  a  group 
of  Madonna  and  Saints  that  were  still  quite  decorative. 
Of  the  history  of  Serravalle  and  Ceneda,  of  which 
this  building  formed  a  part,  it  is  only  necessary  to  say 
that  it  followed  that  of  Conegliano;1  and  of  their  art, 
that  they  never  produced  any  good  painter,  except 
Jacopo  da  Valentina,  who  studied  under  the  early 
Vivarini  of  Venice,  was  a  follower  of  Squarcione  and 
Crivelli,  and  became  more  known  for  his  severe  mould- 
ing than  for  grace  or  coloring.    Dario  painted  their 
house-fronts;  and  Basaiti  the  Venetian,  Francesco  da 
Milano,  Carpaccio,  and  Amalteo,  the  pupil  of  Porde- 
none,  came  to  aid  in  adorning  their  churches.  The 
last-named  is  alleged  by  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle  to 
have  been  the  author  of  these  frescoes  of  the  town 
loggia.    But  greatest  of  all  the  stranger  artists  who 
decorated  the  twin  cities  was  Titian;  his  daughter 
married  and  resided  here,  and  he  was  used  to  stop  over 
with  her,  on  his  trips  to  Pieve,  for  weeks  and  months 
at  a  time.  On  some  such  occasions  he  painted  the  two 
wonderful  canvases  which  have  beautified  and  made 
famous  the  two  cathedrals. 

It  was  still  light  enough  to  see  the  interior  of  Serra- 
valle's  Duomo,  —  which  I  remember  as  a  well-pro- 
portioned, rather  pleasing  edifice  with  an  elevated 
choir;  it  contained  some  of  Amalteo's  highly  colored, 

1  The  possession  of  the  Conti  di  Ceneda  was  interrupted  by  the  ambitious 
Trevisans  about  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  century.  Against  their  pre- 
tensions the  Cenedese  repeatedly  rebelled,  often  with  bloody  battles  and 
reprisals,  until  Ezzelino  laid  his  iron  hand  upon  the  Marches. 


FROM  TREVISO  TO  UDINE  249 

highly  energetic  work,  and  formerly  a  canvas  of  Car- 
paccio's,  which  I  could  not  find;  but  dwarfing  all  else 
was  the  great  Titian  on  the  choir-wall.  It  is  dated 
1547,  and  represents  the  Madonna  between  Saints 
Peter  and  Andrew,  —  a  grand  tableau,  dignified, 
almost  majestic,  toned  like  a  reverberating  bronze  bell 
of  deep,  inspiring  note,  glowing  with  the  master's 
splendid,  harmonious  hues;  —  the  kind  of  harmony 
at  which  one  gazes  and  gazes,  till  he  is  lost  in  its  golden 
atmosphere  of  celestial  peace,  thrilled  with  the  lofty 
impulses  that  radiate  from  the  holy  faces. 

Emerging  into  the  dusk  of  eventide,  and  returning 
to  the  inn,  I  enjoyed  an  excellent  dinner  in  which  the 
ptece  de  resistance  was  a  plate  of  those  poor  little  birds 
that  the  hunters  shoot  by  the  myriad,  —  beccaficchi, 

—  whose  tiny  bodies  do  not  yield  a  mouthful  apiece; 

—  and  yet  the  people  wonder  why  their  crops  are 
being  every  year  more  destroyed  by  insects,  and  vainly 
march  forth  statues  of  the  Madonna  to  disperse  the 
pests.  I  was  fed  in  solitary  state  at  a  separate  table 
in  the  rear;  and  found  much  diversion  in  the  doings 
of  a  crowd  of  peasants  who  seemed  to  be  celebrating 
the  festa  of  some  friend.  Though  they  drank  only 
wine,  they  became  quite  intoxicated,  and  then  loudly 
displayed  their  histrionic  abilities,  till  the  place  was 
a  perfect  bedlam.  But  my  sleep  afterwards  was  easy, 
on  the  always  comfortable  Italian  bed;  and  early  in 
the  morning  I  was  again  in  the  piazza,  rejoicing  in  the 
inspiration  of  the  fresh  mountain  air. 

This  time  I  pushed  on  beyond,  by  the  main  street, 
along  the  west  base  of  the  hill,  until  I  finally  passed 
through  an  aged  gateway  in  the  northern  city  wall, 
and  found  the  valley  opened  out  again,  rich  and  lovely, 
between  the  close-confining  mountain  flanks.  On 
through  this  charming  dale  ran  the  white  highway, 


250  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

toward  the  peaks  of  the  Col  Vicentin  looming  grimly 
ahead,  —  on  to  Belluno,  and  the  majestic  beauties  of 
the  gorge  of  the  Piave.  I  returned  to  town  by  the 
diverging  way  around  the  hill's  eastern  base,  passing 
quarries  high  up  on  the  terraces  of  the  mountain,  mills 
along  the  plunging  waters  of  the  stream,  and  ter- 
raced gardens  of  old  palaces,  suspended  on  the  hill- 
side in  laded  grandeur. 

In  the  first  portion  of  this  pleasant  walk,  the  out- 
ward progress,  I  observed  near  the  northern  city  wall 
an  old  church  of  Gothic  times,  —  S.  Giovanni  Bat- 
tista,  —  whose  dusky,  worn  interior  glowed  with  a 
number  of  excellent  paintings.  To  chance  upon  some 
unknown  church,  and  discover  a  few  artistic  treasures 
unpublished  to  the  world,  is  sometimes  a  pleasure 
greater  than  would  be  the  finding  of  a  gold  nugget  in 
an  abandoned  mine.  The  good  parroco,  in  a  thread- 
bare cassock  with  the  sleeves  rolled  up,  unshaven  and 
dirty,  was  vigorously  polishing  the  silver  of  the  altar 
in  the  sacristy.  A  young  man  of  thirty-five,  doubtless 
without  influential  connections,  having  obtained  no 
better  charge  than  this  out-of-the-way  parish  and  its 
ruinous  edifice,  with  few  communicants,  and  poverty 
too  severe  to  permit  assistants,  he  had  — as  I  learned  — 
with  his  own  hands  restored  the  building,  and  recalled 
the  allegiance  of  the  people.  He  told  me,  simply,  how 
he  had  found  a  lot  of  old  soiled  canvases  in  the  base- 
ment, cleaned  them  with  bread  and  wine,  and  hung 
them  upon  the  bare  altars  and  choir-walls.  There  was 
nothing  exceptional  about  him,  —  but  one  must  ad- 
mire such  loving  souls  that  are  not  ashamed  of  hard 
manual  labor  in  the  service  of  good ;  and  there  are  many, 
many,  such  poor,  devoted,  slaving  priests  in  Italy. 

Among  his  unearthed  paintings  were  four  of  sur- 
prising merit:  two  groups  of  three  saints  on  the  first 


FROM  TREVISO  TO  UDINE  251 

and  second  altars  to  the  right,  by  the  little  known 
Francesco  Frizimelaga  (signed,  dated  1607),  of  much 
quiet  grace,  harmonious  color,  and  gentle  feeling;  a 
splendid  example  of  Jacopo  Valentina  (signed,  dated 
1502),  on  the  first  altar  to  the  left,  —  a  panel  of  the 
Madonna  and  four  Saints,  with  an  especially  fine 
figure  of  the  Baptist,  displaying  Jacopo's  rich,  deep 
tone  and  sincerely  pietistic  qualities,  so  attractive  that 
I  stood  wondering  why  his  fame  is  not  wider;  and 
behind  the  high-altar,  a  large  Baptism  of  Christ  by 
Francesco  da  Milano,  well  disposed  and  tinted,  of 
much  expression  and  power. 

A  traveler  who  happened  to  be  spending  some  time 
at  Serravalle  would  do  well  also  to  look  up  the  paint- 
ings of  Basaiti  —  who  has  left  us  so  many  pleasing 
pictures  -  at  the  churches  of  S.  Lorenzo  and  S. 
Silvestro  alia  Costa;  also  the  work  of  Valentina  at 
S.  Giustina,  and  that  of  Jacobello  del  Fiore  in  the 
Hospital  of  S.  Lorenzo. 

When  I  went  to  Ceneda,  it  was  by  the  omnibus  of 
the  inn,  in  the  afternoon  hours,  down  the  long  straight 
highway  as  far  as  the  railroad  station,  and  thence  on 
foot  the  remaining  mile  or  so,  through  streets  lined 
thickly  with  modern-looking  dwellings  and  shops, 
with  the  fields  behind  the  latter  open  and  cultivated. 
The  long  space  of  the  valley  between  the  original 
towns  has  thus  been  covered  in  recent  times,  in  a  curi- 
ous combination  of  stretches  of  open  country,  village 
Streets,  and  sea ttered  clusters  of  habitations,  with 
occasional  handsome  grounds  about  gaudy  villas;  the 

largesl  of  these  clusters  being  naturally  around 
the  Station,  opposite  to  whose  ornate  stone  terraces 
Si  ret<li  various  beautiful  lawns  with  stalely  shade 
free>.  On  arriving  in  old  Ceneda,  :it  the  fool  of  its 
Castled  promontory,  successive  directions  from  passers- 


£*£  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

by  brought  me  safely  through  its  winding  ways  to  the 
main  piazza;  which  lies  at  the  southern  base  of  the 
headland,  beneath  the  medieval  mansion  of  its  bishop. 

The  latter's  cathedral  fronts  upon  the  piazza's 
eastern  end,  —  a  great,  plain,  stuccoed  structure;  on 
its  north  side  is  the  little  Municipio,  with  the  proverb- 
ial loggia;  and  before  it  extends  the  long,  dirt-paved 
area,  between  separate  three-storied  buildings,  to  the 
wall  and  terraced  gardens  of  the  Marchesa  Costantini, 
at  the  western  end.  These,  famed  far  and  wide  in  a 
land  of  beautiful  gardens,  raise  over  the  wall  mighty 
elms  and  beeches  that  allow  but  a  glimpse  of  the 
handsome  villa  in  their  bosom,  and  stretch  afar  up 
the  slope  of  the  mountain,  here  curved  to  the  south, 
in  a  luxuriance  of  copses,  shady  paths,  and  areas  of 
shrubs,  flowers,  and  exotic  plants,  surpassing  descrip- 
tion. At  the  far  summit  stands  a  temple  of  classic 
lines,  looking  down  with  its  noble  white  portico  over 
the  riotous  verdure  below. 

I  stepped  first  into  the  Duomo,  which  opened  to  me 
a  spacious  nave  of  simple  Renaissance  lines,  lower 
aisles  with  shallow  chapels,  a  transept  adorned  by  a 
pompous  dome,  and  a  large  choir  elevated  above  an 
ancient  crypt.  Its  Renaissance  renovation  makes  it 
look  unlike  an  edifice  which  has  played  the  great  part 
that  it  has  in  this  people's  history;  —  the  bishop  and 
his  canons  having  been  foremost,  through  all  the 
centuries,  in  every  public  advancement,  and  equally  so 
in  the  development  of  art;  as  they  were  the  medium 
by  which  several  foreign  artists  came  to  Ceneda,  — 
called  to  embellish  the  walls  and  altars  of  the  Duomo. 
Here  then  were  the  chief  relics  of  those  long-gone 
visits,  the  main  objets  d'art  of  the  twin  cities,  —  their 
collection  of  paintings. 

Amongst  the  throng  of  them  that  shone  from  altar- 


FROM  TREVISO  TO  UDINE  253 

tops  and  wall-spaces  were,  firstly,  a  Coronation  of  the 
Virgin  by  Jacobello  del  Fiore  (about  1408),  primitive 
and  quaintly  graceful;  secondly,  two  superb  works  of 
Jacopo  Valentina,  —  of  whom  his  town  may  well  be 
proud.  These  were  a  Madonna  with  Saints  Anthony 
and  Sebastian,  second  to  the  left  (signed,  1510),  dis- 
playing a  little  donor  at  the  bottom ;  and  a  Madonna 
with  Saints  Biasio  and  John  the  Baptist,  and  donor, 
fourth  to  the  right,  showing  a  rich  marble  throne, 
with  a  clear  blue  sky  behind  it  dotted  by  fleecy  clouds, 
and  also  two  charming  little  putti-heads;  both  pictures 
were  highly  finished  and  deeply  toned,  of  attractive 
coloring  and  atmosphere,  with  Madonna  figures  of 
remarkable  beauty. 

Less  in  importance  were  the  two  Palma  Giovanes; 
—  a  Baptism  of  Christ,  first  to  the  left,  having  a  good 
form  of  the  Baptist,  —  not  emaciated,  for  once,  — 
with  a  dazzling  angel  holding  the  Saviour's  garment; 
and  a  risen  Christ,  in  the  chapel  to  the  left  of  the  choir, 
of  Palma's  characteristic  vaulting  type,  to  me  rather 
displeasing.  In  the  sacristy  were  two  small  Tiepolos, 
one  of  them  a  Crucifixion  of  considerable  power  of 
expression.  But  far  and  away  beyond  all  the  others, 
beyond  any  painting  that  I  had  seen  since  leaving 
Venice,  was  the  large  and  marvelous  picture  that 
greeted  me  in  the  third  chapel  to  the  right,  astounding 
me  by  the  unexpectedness  of  such  a  find,  and  the 
grandeur  of  its  beauty.  I  had  received  no  warning  that 
a  great  masterpiece  remained  here;  it  is  mentioned  in 
none  of  the  guidebooks;  and  the  coming  thus  suddenly 
upon  its  dramatic  loveliness  was  an  experience  not  to 
be  forgotten. 

It  was  one  of  those  rare,  great  works  that  at  the  first 
glance  speak  in  trumpet-tones  to  the  mind  and  heart, 
a  vivid,  realistic,  yet  idyllic  tableau,  of  exceptional 


254  PLAIN  TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

force  and  feeling,  radiating  power  and  loveliness  and 
intense  expressiveness  combined;  it  glowed  with  a 
profound  internal  radiance  that  made  the  scene  celes- 
tial, and  a  deep  iridescence  of  gorgeous  coloring,  that 
i\  II  upon  the  soul  like  a  burst  of  stately  melody  from 
a  pealing  organ;  it  was  mantled  in  shadowy  atmo- 
sphere,  through  which  the  piercing  light  touched 
every  salient  form  with  glory,  —  and  held  speaking, 
living  figures,  of  perfect  lifelikeness,  and  superhuman 
beauty. 

The  idea  of  the  picture  was  simple  and  timeworn, 
its  setting-forth  most  poetical  and  enchanting.  It 
exemplified  perfectly  the  loftiness  of  genius,  —  which 
conceives  an  everyday  theme  in  terms  of  grandeur, 
moulds  it  in  a  novel,  fascinating  shape,  and  strikes  fire 
from  its  spirited  feeling  to  the  heart  of  the  observer. 
This  was,  then,  only  a  tableau  of  the  Madonna  en- 
throned between  Saints  Roch  and  Sebastian,  standing 
at  her  sides;  but  to  the  right  and  rear  of  the  canopy 
that  sheltered  them,  stretched  a  countryside  of  vivid 
tragedy,  wild  and  fearsome  in  the  shrouding  pall  of 
night,  whose  heavy,  murky  atmosphere  wrapped  every 
object  in  indefinable  awesomencss.  Over  this  wild 
scene  lowered  a  turbulent,  black  sky  with  rolling 
masses  of  storm-clouds,  menacing  and  advancing, 
appearing  to  hold  in  their  turbid  depths  thunderbolts 
straining  at  the  leash;  while  all  Nature  ceased  its 
breath  in  that  dread  silence  before  the  elements' 
explosion.  The  coming  peril  was  made  manifest  by  a 
touch  of  gentle  light  from  the  hidden  moon,  silvering 
the  inky  clouds'  low'er  edges  above  the  distant  hori- 
zon, accentuating  with  its  peaceful  ray  the  terrible 
wrathfulness  of  the  storm;  but  the  striking,  purposed 
contrasl  was  in  those  gathered  saintly  figures,  serene 
and  lovely,  whose  faces,  expressive  of  heavenly  calm 


FROM  TREVISO  TO  UDINE  255 

and  holy  thought,  were  lifted  to  the  Eternal  with  no 
fear  of  what  earth  could  do. 

Such  grandeur  of  tone  and  chiaroscuro,  such  incom- 
parable power  and  grace  united,  such  a  combination 
of  all  the  potentialities  of  the  brush, — but  one  genius 
that  ever  lived  in  this  North  Italy  could  have  accom- 
plished them;  —  it  was  Tiziano.  This  was  Titian's 
second  masterpiece  executed  for  the  twin  cities;  and  I 
will  say  truthfully,  having  studied  nearly  all  his  works, 
that  to  me  it  seems  one  of  the  two  or  three  greatest 
of  them  all.  It  may  not  make  upon  all  others  the  same 
profound  impression,  —  it  cannot;  people  are  too 
varied  in  tastes;  —  but  from  me  that  impression  has 
never  departed,  —  has  lingered  as  a  steadfast,  sub- 
lime glory;  and  to  any  true  lover  of  painting,  its  appeal 
must  be  worth  the  whole  journeying  through  the  towns 
of  Venetia. 

Previtali,  that  splendid  artist  of  Bergamo  who  at- 
tained the  nearest  of  them  all  to  pure,  unalloyed 
beauty,  painted  for  this  same  cathedral  about  the 
year  1500  an  Annunciation,  which  Titian  is  reported 
by  Riilolfi  to  have  much  admired;  but  I  could  not  find 
it,  and  I  lie  sacristan  asserted  no  knowledge  of  it.  So 
I  finished  my  visit  by  gazing  at  the  fine  old  Gothic 
bishop's  chair,  attractively  carved,  with  inset  niches 
containing  wooden  statuettes,  —  and  at  the  model  of 
the  proud  new  facade  now  planned  for  I  lie  Dnomo, 
set  againsl  I  be  first  pillar  to  Ihe  left ;  then  I  crossed  the 
sunny  piazza  to  the  Palazzo  Municipals 

Thi>  curious  Renaissance  si ructure  is  of  t  wo  stories: 
a  ground-floor  loggia  behind  five  arches  on  square 
brick  pillars,  slightly  elevated  and  approached  by 
teps; ; i r i <  1  an  upper,  stuccoed  division  contain- 
ing three  double-arched  stone  windows,  the  cent ral 
one  being  the  customary  ringhiera,  with  balcony,  and 


25G  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

a  ruined  Venetian  Lion  overhead.  I  entered  the  deep 
loggia,  noticing  upon  its  walls  damaged  portions  of 
extensive  frescoes  in  the  manner  of  Pordenone.  There 
had  been  three  large  pictures.  On  the  left  wall  re- 
mained a  group  of  life-size  persons,  with  a  cluster  of 
houses  perched  above  them  on  a  rock,  crowded  with 
people  in  the  windows  and  balconies,  —  realistic, 
very  substantial  people,  in  gay  cinquecento  costumes; 
on  the  rear  wall  was  a  cortege  of  heroic  cavaliers  and 
foot-soldiers  emerging  from  a  city  gate,  passing  a  poor 
woman  seated  by  the  roadside  with  a  youth's  head  in 
her  lap,  all  backed  by  a  wide  landscape  of  a  valley 
hemmed  by  rolling  mountains,  in  excellent  perspective; 
on  the  right  wall  was  another  city  gate,  framing  a  vista 
of  palatial  buildings,  —  also  a  monarch  seated  upon 
his  throne,  surrounded  by  courtiers.  These  were  but 
fragments  of  the  original  scenes,  which  doubtless  por- 
trayed incidents  in  the  life  of  some  saint;  but  they 
were  vividly  realistic  and  tangible,  of  dignified  action 
and  strong  expression,  and  very  impressive  in  their 
throngs  of  brilliantly  costumed  figures.  The  work  was 
strong  enough  for  Pordenone's  own;  but  the  artist 
was  his  pupil,  Pomponio  Amalteo.  It  was  a  most  un- 
usual painting  for  a  public  place,  a  veritable  curiosity, 
—  and  a  good  example  of  what  fine  work  Amalteo 
could  do. 

I  continued  up  the  piazza  to  the  gateway  at  its  end 
into  the  Costantini  grounds,  sent  in  my  visiting-card 
to  the  Marchesa,  and  was  graciously  permitted  to 
walk  about  under  the  guidance  of  the  head  gardener. 
The  villa,  an  elaborate  modern  structure,  stood  on  the 
level,  surrounded  closely  by  flower-beds,  shrubberies, 
gravel  paths,  and  clumps  of  great  trees,  with  the  stables 
and  garage  shortly  to  the  right.  Immediately  behind 
these  buildings  commenced  the  hillside,  which  mounted 


FROM  TREVISO   TO   UDINE  257 

steadily  afar  in  one  luxuriant  thicket  of  horticulture, 

—  an  indescribable,  orderly  tangle  of  glades  of  rare 
and  majestic  trees,  groups  of  plants  of  every  species, 
indigenous  and  exotic,  and  beds  of  shrubs  and  flowers 
of  a  myriad  lovely  varieties,  —  with  huge  greenhouses 
concealed  in  copses,  brilliant  with  more  tender  beau- 
ties; while  everywhere  ran  winding  paths,  —  affording 
enchanting  glimpses,  as  they  climbed,  of  the  town  and 
distant  plain  and  frowning  mountains,  —  leading  to 
rustic  seats  and  summer-houses,  perched  on  shady 
knolls. 

Near  the  summit  was  a  large  kiosk,  with  an  unin- 
terrupted view  over  the  tree-tops,  where  the  family 
and  their  guests  were  wont  to  take  their  tea  of  after- 
noons; but  this  famous  old  Venetian  family  had  lost  its 
last  male  representative  on  the  recent  death  of  the 
Marchese,  and  must  soon  disappear.  The  classic 
stone  building  at  the  top  proved  to  be  a  mausoleum, 

—  church  above  and  burial  crypt  below,  —  contain- 
ing the  remains  of  the  Marchese  and  others  of  his 
line.  I  gazed  for  a  while  at  the  grand  panorama 
spread  below  in  the  glow  of  sunset,  —  the  far  extended 
white  buildings  and  campanili  of  Ceneda,  the  promon- 
tory with  its  castles,  hiding  Serravalle  from  sight,  the 
endless  plain  softly  green  in  the  level,  golden  sun-rays, 
the  mighty  wall  of  the  Alps  stretching  indefinitely  to 
the  northeast;  —  and  I  envied  for  a  moment  these 
Venetian  patricians  who  have  such  gardens  of  Eden 
for  their  mtteggiatura. 

As  I  looked,  the  golden  rays  lifted  themselves  from 
the  ground  to  the  rounded  white  clouds  far  aloft,  and 
began  to  color  them  with  wondrous  hues  of  pink  and 
rose  and  scarlet;  then,  from  the  shadows  stealing  over 
the  plain,  arose  the  soft,  sweet  note  of  a  vesper-bell,  — 
then  another,  of  more  mellow  tone,  and  a  third,  still 


258  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

farther  distant;  till  soon  they  were  calling  from  every 
campanile,  far  and  near,  —  and  the  united  clamor, 
sweeping  over  the  unbroken  level,  seemed  a  fusion  of 
all  the  heart -cries  of  the  desolating  centuries. 

Now  was  the  hour  that  wakens  fond  desire 
In  men  at  sea,  and  melts  their  thoughtful  hearts 
Who  in  the  morn  have  bid  sweet  friends  farewell; 
And  pilgrim  newly  on  his  road,  with  love 
Thrills,  if  he  hear  the  vesper-bell  from  far, 
That  seems  to  mourn  for  the  expiring  day.1 

There  are  two  other  delightful  excursions  to  be 
made  from  Serravalle,  —  in  the  mountains  near  at 
hand,  each  readily  covered  within  the  light  of  a  single 
day:  one,  to  the  famous  castle  of  Brandolin  on  Monte 
Cisone,  —  a  magnificent  old  stronghold,  finely  situ- 
ated and  decorated;  the  other,  to  the  celebrated  forest 
on  a  wide  tableland  near  the  Col  Vicentin,  that  be- 
longed to  the  Venetian  State,  and  was  thence  called 
the  Bosco  del  Consiglio.  The  Republic  used  it  for 
piles  to  sustain  the  marble  city,  and  in  the  building 
of  her  ships,  for  which  it  furnished  for  centuries  excep- 
tional masts  and  spars.  It  is  a  wild,  untenanted, 
mysterious  tract  of  mountain  country,  of  lofty,  ghost- 
like forest  glades,  and  beautiful  vistas  of  the  peaks  on 
one  hand,  the  far-stretching  plain  below  on  the  other. 

Early  one  morning  I  returned  down  the  valley  by 
its  branch  railroad  to  the  junction  of  Conegliano,  and 
took  the  main  line  eastward,  leading  to  Udine  and  the 
end  of  the  plain.  Now  I  entered  the  region  called 
Friuli,  —  the  corner  between  the  slopes  of  the  Julian 
Alps  and  the  lagoons,  —  thinking,  as  the  train  sped  on, 
of  all  that  I  had  read  concerning  its  woods  and  wild- 
ness,  its  aloofness  and  peculiar  people,  its  countless 
sorrows  under  the  invader's  heel,  and  its  long,  pathetic 

1  Cary's  translation  of  Dante,  Purgatorio,  canto  vm. 


FROM  TREVISO   TO  UDIXE  259 

retardation  in  civilization  and  art.  As  we  left  the  Tre- 
visan  Marches  behind,  the  Alps  receded,  and  the  plain 
assumed  a  different  aspect.  An  extraordinary  num- 
ber of  large  swift  streams  dash  across  it  from  the 
mountains,  bearing  their  silt  to  the  bars  and  salt 
marshes  along  the  coast  of  the  Adriatic,  pushing  the 
latter  farther  seaward  year  by  year,  ever  extending 
the  mainland,  by  the  same  alluvial  process  which  has 
made  it  all.  Every  few  minutes  we  crossed  another 
river,  —  different  branches  of  the  historic  Livenza, 
flowing  insignificant  in  the  present  summer  drought, 
through  winding  channels  in  their  wide  stony  beds; 
but  in  the  melting  spring-times  and  rainy  autumns 
they  are  roaring  giants,  that  hurl  along  boulders  and 
trees  from  the  Alpine  slopes,  stop  the  tide  of  travel, 
and  often  devastate  the  fields.  In  some  parts  these 
torrents  have  made  beds  two  to  four  miles  in  width, 
covered  with  the  invariable  rounded  stones,  that 
glisten  to  a  far  distance  in  the  beating  sun.1 

Where  oleanders  flushed  the  beds 
Of  silent  torrents  gravel  spread; 
And,  crossing,  oft  we  saw  the  glisten 
Of  ice,  far  up  on  a  mountain  head.2 

All  Friuli  was  densely  forested  in  ancient  and  medi- 
eval times,  —  which  contributed  much  to  its  people's 

1  Before  these  Streams  were  confined  within  their  modern  dikes,  they 
were  continually,  during  the  countless  centuries,  changing  their  courses 
from  one  decade  to  another;  which,  added  to  the  annual  floods.  l>orc  every- 
where the  hot  part  of  tlic  soil  into  tlie  sea,  leaving  the  plain  covered  with 
but  a  thin,  poor  deposit  of  earth,  impregnated  with  sand  and  pebbles  and 
scattered  over  with  boulders,  (it  only  for  the  growth  of  forests  and  the 
grating  of  eat  tie.  Por  the  same  cause  the  population  was  ever  scanty  and 
Door,  dwelling  apart  in  the  woods  from  the  rest  of  humanity,  and  so  devel- 
oping that  uncouth  patOU  which  is  still  in  us.-.  Venice  much  improved  their 
condition;  and  in  modern  times  there  has  been  a  great  gain  in  all  directions, 
particularly  in  the  redemption  and  cultivation  of  the  soil. 

2  Lord  Tennyson. 


860  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

crudity  and  peculiar  character,  —  and  is  still  so  cov- 
ered  with  trees  as  to  present  the  general  appearance, 
from  a  height,  of  one  great  wood;  they  line  the  roads 
and  fields,  and  stand  in  more  frequent  copses  than  in 
Lombardy.  A  large  extent  of  the  cleared  land  is  so 
regularly  covered  with  water  as  to  be  useless  for  crops; 
these  unfilled  meadows,  the  omnipresent  streams  and 
woods,  the  absence  of  frequent  habitations,  and  the 
comparative  sparseness  of  the  towns,  all  joined  to  give 
t  he  country-side  an  aspect  quite  different  from  the  rest 
of  Venetia.  It  wras  a  somewhat  desolate,  mournful  ap- 
pearance, that  slowly,  inappreciably  affected  my  spirits 
while  I  stayed  in  Friuli,  —  imparted  the  sensation  of 
being  far  from  the  Italy  I  love,  and  made  me  long, 
after  a  week  or  so,  to  get  away.  Ouida  well  expressed  this 
sentiment  in  her  vagrant  Pascarel:  "All  Friuli  is  sad 
and  unlovely;  if  it  were  not  for  the  glimpses  of  the 
Alps  away  there  toward  Venice,  it  would  be  hateful, 
—  that  desolate,  historic  land  that  had  every  road  of 
it  stamped  bare  by  the  iron  heel  of  Barbarossa." 

On  this  first  day,  however,  I  descended  from  the  train 
somewhat  less  than  halfway  to  Udine,  at  the  ancient 
town  of  Pordenone,  which  produced  the  painter  of 
that  name.  It  was  the  Portus  Naonis  of  Roman  days, 
was  despoiled  by  Alaric,  destroyed  by  Attila,  tramped 
down  again  by  Theodoric  and  Alboin,  seized  by  the 
Carlovingians,  and,  after  the  end  of  the  la'tters'  rule, 
had  begun  to  enjoy  a  little  independence  when  it  be- 
came the  prey  of  the  Austrian  and  Italian  despots.1 

1  The  earliest  Friulan  chronicles  report  the  city  and  its  territory  to 
have  been,  during  the  eleventh  and  twelfth  centuries,  in  the  possession  of 
certain  "  Dukes  of  Austria  and  Styria,"  from  whom  it  passed,  in  1222,  to  the 
powerful  Friulan  family  of  Castello,  allied  to  that  of  Ceneda.  From  them 
it  was  forcibly  seized,  in  1270,  by  the  Patriarch  of  Aquileia,  who  during 
tli'e,.-  ages  claimed  the  territorial  as  well  as  the  ecclesiastical  rights  as  far 
west  as  the  river  Mincio,  and  in  large  part  maintained  them.   Pordenone 


FROM  TREVISO  TO   UDINE  261 

Its  aloofness  did  not  save  the  city  from  the  common 
fate  of  the  eastern  plain-towns:  it  was  reached  after, 
and  grasped  in  turn,  by  the  Delia  Carrara,  the  Delia 
Scala,  the  Visconti,  and  the  Venetians.  Under  the 
Republic  it  at  last  flourished  once  more,  awoke  to  the 
Renaissance,  when  this  had  grown  to  maturity  farther 
south,  and  developed  during  the  cinquecento  its  own 
tardy  school  of  painting,  which  colored  its  house 
fronts  and  adorned  its  churches.  From  these  local 
artists  —  deprived  by  their  remoteness  of  the  teach- 
ings of  the  great  schools  and  masters,  until  Gian 
Bellini's  time  —  emerged  one  of  the  two  geniuses  to 
whom  Friuli  gave  birth,  whose  success  was  the  more 
remarkable  and  praiseworthy  considering  the  primi- 
tive conditions  of  his  native  art  and  the  smallness  of 
his  early  advantages. 

Giovanni  Antonio  Licinio  (de'  Sacchis  or  de'  Cuti- 
celli,  according  to  different  authorities  upon  the  fam- 
ily name)  was  born  at  Pordenone  in  1483,  passed  there 
his  early  years,  and  in  his  later  period  of  renown  and 
wealth  often  returned  there  for  considerable  visits, 
during  which  he  decorated  churches  and  palaces  with 
the  fruits  of  his  mature  powers.  While  still  living  as  a 
youth  under  the  parental  roof  he  was  wounded  by  his 
brother  in  a  quarrel,  and  in  consequence  went  away, 
abandoning  his  family  name  for  the  assumed  one  of 
Regillo.  The  place  to  which  he  first  went  to  study  his 
art  is  alleged  by  some  authorities  to  have  been  the  small 
school  of  (J as tel franco,  but  by  Ridolfi  and  others  — 

continued  to  be  a  bone  of  contention  l>el  ween  tin-  Patriarchs  and  t lie*  Aus- 
trian duke,  (the  I)--'  Castello  having  transferred  t  Inir  claim  to  the  Baps- 
I'urt,'-.;  until  the  Delia  Carrara  stepped  in,  toward  the  end  of  the  treoento. 
Prom  them  it  was  seised  by  Can  Grande  della  Scala;  and  from  his  weak 
successor.  M;i.stino  II,  it  was  taken  by  the  Visconti,  —  so  thai  for  ;i  few 
years  this  district  formed  a  pari  of  the  immense  kingdom  of  (dan  (Jaleazzo. 
I  i>on  bis  death  it  was  occupied  by  Venice. 


262  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

which  opinion  is  accepted  by  Lanzi — to  have  been  the 
neighboring  city  of  Udine,  where  he  acquainted  him- 
self with  the  extraordinary  productions  of  that  other, 
preceding,  great  painter  of  Friuli,  Pellegrino  da  San 
Daniele.  Subsequently  (  or  as  Rinaldi  states,  in  the 
first  place)  he  journeyed  to  Venice  and  became  a 
worker  in  the  studio  of  Giovanni  Bellini,  in  the  com- 
pany of  Titian  and  Giorgione.  But  it  was  the  last- 
named  artist  who  most  excited  the  young  Friulan's 
admiration  and  waxing  powers;  whether  or  not  he  fol- 
lowed Giorgione  to  Castelfranco,  certain  it  is  that  he 
adopted  the  latter's  style,  attained  much  of  his  pe- 
culiar glowing  tone  and  coloring,  and  followed  his 
manner  to  the  end,  while  developing  later  some  de- 
cidedly variant  characteristics.  I  had  seen  at  Treviso, 
in  the  debated  Entombment,  how  entirely  similar  was 
the  work  of  the  youthful  painter  to  that  of  his  adored 
Barbarelli. 

The  Venetians,  according  to  their  habit,  did  not 
call  him  Regillo,  but  "II  Pordenone";  and  the  appel- 
lation has  clung,  —  which  is  perhaps  fortunate,  for 
it  serves  to  distinguish  him  from  his  cousin  Bernar- 
dino Licinio,  who  produced  works  of  less  ability  in  a 
somewhat  similar  style.  As  Pordenone  advanced  in 
his  strength  of  original  conception,  bold  execution, 
and  vigorous  action  and  expression,  until  he  became 
after  Barbarelli's  death  one  of  the  chiefs  of  the  Vene- 
tian school,  he  traveled  all  over  North  Italy  decorating 
churches,  palaces,  and  castles.  His  was  an  exceptional, 
restless,  forceful,  ardent  spirit,  which  shines  reechoed 
from  his  daring,  powerful  pictures,  with  their  massive, 
bold,  energetic  figures  in  brilliant  costumes;  his  large 
frescoes  were  therefore  very  striking  productions;  and 
he  executed  them  in  all  the  different  northern  states 
and  courts,  from  Piacenza  in  the  southwest  to  Udine 


FROM  TREVISO  TO  UDINE  263 

in  the  northeast.  But,  unfortunately,  most  of  them 
have  perished,  and  those  remaining  are  rarely  in  a 
good  condition.  His  frescoes  in  his  native  place  enjoy 
the  distinction  of  being  authentic  beyond  a  question, 
because  they  are  described  in  a  still  existing  autograph 
of  the  master;  and  I  eagerly  hoped  to  find  them  in  a 
decent  preservation.  His  smaller,  pietistic  canvases, 
however,  were  so  entirely  different  from  the  frescoes, 
often,  as  to  make  one  wonder  if  he  had  not  a  double 
personality;  they  were  as  gentle,  dignified,  refined,  and 
serenely  lovely  as  the  larger  works  were  bold  and 
vigorous. 

The  station  lies  to  the  south  of  the  little  city,  now 
of  but  five  thousand  inhabitants,  with  a  long,  straight, 
modern  thoroughfare  leading  north  from  it  to  the 
central  piazza.  Leaving  my  luggage  in  deposit,  I  fol- 
lowed this  broad  way  between  its  late  stuccoed  build- 
ings, seeing  no  signs  of  the  medieval  walls.  The  fairly 
wide  piazza  was  bounded  by  the  same  sort  of  modern 
structures,  and  crossed  by  the  main  street  running 
east  and  west,  which  was  a  section  of  the  great  high- 
way from  Italy  to  the  Orient.  It  was  unusually  wide, 
paved  with  cobblestones,  and  lined  on  both  sides  by 
continuous  arcades  of  every  age  and  style,  upon  which 
rose  four-storied  buildings  of  stone  and  plaster.  Most 
of  the  old  town  lay  to  the  north  of  this  avenue,  which 
very  likely  was  originally  but  a  road  along  the  outside 
of  the  southern  walls,  —  as  at  Conegliano. 

In  its  western  portion  I  found  nothing  of  interest; 
but  its  eastern  contained  an  interesting  variety  of  edi- 
fices, from  quaint  (Jot  hie  arcades  and  facades  to  pon- 
derous palaces  of  the  Late-Renaissance;  and  between 
a  forking  of  the  way,  facing  down  it  toward  the  piaz- 
za several  hundred  yards  distant,  rose  the  curious  old 
Gothic   Palazzo  Munieipale.  The  appearance  of  this 


364  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

building  was  unique:  the  main  body  had  three  triply 
recessed,  large,  pointed  arches  in  the  ground  floor, 
opening  into  the  customary,  deep,  shadowy  loggia, 
and  three  corresponding  openings  in  the  upper  floor, 
of  which  the  central  was  a  simple  doorway,  and  the 
outer  were  triple  Gothic  windows,  topped  by  brick 
mouldings  in  the  form  of  geometrical  tracery  within 
a  terra-cotta  label.  These  windows  were  a  curiosity 
that,  would  have  wildly  aroused  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
late  Mr.  Street  in  his  Gothic  wanderings.  Over  them 
ran  a  trecento  cornice  in  the  shape  of  connected,  brick 
trefoil  arches  resting  upon  corbels:  and  from  each  upper 
corner  rose  a  strange  square  turret,  —  an  open  belfry  of 
four  trefoil  arches  (one  to  each  side)  sustained  by  mar- 
ble columns,  and  surmounted  by  an  acute  brick  spire. 
The  structure  dates,  it  is  said,  from  as  early  as  1291. 
But  the  queerest  feature  was  the  narrow  portico 
which  projected  from  the  building's  centre  and  rose 
two  full  stories  above  the  cornice,  like  a  tower:  its 
first  division,  a  Gothic  archway  upon  marble  columns 
of  unusual  weight;  its  second,  a  rounded  archway  with 
a  balustrade,  forming  a  ringhiera  balcony  entered  by 
the  aforesaid  doorway;  its  third  and  fourth  divisions, 
solid,  square  brick  bodies,  with  marble  columns  at  the 
angles;  and  upon  the  face  of  the  third  story  stood 
a  huge  clock-face,  upon  the  summit  of  the  fourth  was 
a  bell  swinging  in  the  open,  with  two  bronze  figures 
beside  it,  to  strike  the  hours  with  hammers, — so  much 
like  the  clock-tower  of  St.  Mark's  as  to  make  one  gaze 
for  a  moment  in  astonishment.  All  of  this  delightful 
old  edifice  was  of  unstuccoed,  unpainted  brick,  except 
the  score  of  marble  columns,  and  some  marble  blocks 
at  the  angles  of  the  portico's  first  division.  In  the 
Italian  civic  buildings  of  Gothic  times,  I  know  nothing 
resembling  it. 


FROM  TREVISO  TO   UDIXE  265 

The  upper  story  of  the  palazzo  contains  the  city's 
collection  of  paintings;  but  before  visiting  that,  I 
turned  into  the  left  branch  of  the  forking  street,  where 
the  great,  ponderous  form  of  the  Cathedral  stood 
looking  across  at  the  palazzo's  side.  Its  facade  was 
but  partly  finished,  as  far  as  the  tops  of  the  shafts  of 
the  white  stone  columns,  that  rose  to  the  height  of  a 
single  story,  —  appearing  strange,  indeed,  without 
any  capitals,  just  as  they  stood  when  the  masons 
dropped  their  tools  far  back  in  Renaissance  days. 
Above  them  the  wall  was  of  bare  plaster  only;  but 
in  their  centre  stood  the  completed  main  doorway,  in 
a  Renaissance  marble  frame  of  exceeding  loveliness. 
The  faces  of  its  pilasters  were  cut  with  arabesque  reliefs, 
its  rich  entablature  was  surmounted  by  a  finely  moulded 
arch,  and  within  this  arch,  beside  it,  and  upon  it, 
stood  four  very  old  statues,  of  the  Saviour,  a  saint, 
and  two  angels.  Following  the  former  loyalty  of  the 
Municipio,  in  its  careful  resemblance  to  the  Venetian 
clock-tower,  this  edifice  was  dedicated  to  S.  Marco. 
Inside  it  I  found  a  wide,  flat-arched  nave,  without 
aisles,  with  shallow  chapels  at  the  sides,  a  transept, 
and  a  raised  choir  flanked  by  chapels;  —  all  in  quiet, 
unadorned  Renaissance  lines,  covered  with  shining 
plaster.  Though  commenced  in  13G0,  the  building 
was  not  completed  and  decorated  until  during  the 
quattrocento. 

This  was  the  simple,  spacious  church  that  Por- 
denone  worked  for  ;it  several  different  periods,  and 
enriched  with  his  genius.  Immediately  upon  the 
first  altar  to  the  righl  stood  the  best  of  those  produc- 
tions, a  canvas  of  B  beauty  BO  refined  and  lustrous,  that 
I  was  transfixed  with  delight.  It  was  one  of  his  smaller 
pietistic  works,  thoroughly  gentle,  blissful,  dignified, 
and  strong, component  of  the  qualities  of  Bellini  and 


266  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Giorgione.  It  was  a  Holy  Family  of  his  more  repose- 
ful, early  period  (1515)  —  the  graceful  form  of  the  Ma- 
donna standing  alone  in  the  centre,  St.  Joseph  hold- 
ing the  sacred  child,  and  St.  Christopher  at  the  other 
side;  behind  them  a  curious  rocky  landscape,  with 
a  village  and  some  ancient  ruins;  dark  clouds  overcast- 
ing the  sky  above,  through  which  fell  a  golden,  crim- 
son light  upon  the  pleasing  figures,  wrapped  in  a  glo- 
rious warm  tone  and  atmosphere.  The  quiet,  refined 
coloring  had  faded  into  still  more  delicate  hues,  ac- 
cordant with  the  peaceful  rapture  of  those  beautiful 
faces. 

In  the  first  little  chapel  of  the  right  transept  were 
some  small,  damaged  frescoes,  representing  scenes  from 
the  New  Testament,  said  to  be  by  Pordenone's  school, 
-  not  first-class  pictures,  but  of  good  spacing  and 
action,  and  high  coloring;  and  the  altar-piece  was  a 
Holy  Family  by  A.  Matteo,  containing  a  lovely  Ma- 
donna, of  rich  tone  and  happy  tints.  Adjacent  upon 
a  pillar  I  observed  one  of  Pordenone's  frescoes,  — 
the  two  forms  of  Saints  Roch  and  Erasmus,  the  former 
in  the  artist's  own  lineaments;  though  sadly  injured, 
they  were  still  full  of  strength  and  individuality. 
In  the  second  chapel  of  this  transept,  behind  its  altar, 
appeared  a  very  old  fresco  of  the  Madonna  and  two 
saints,  by  an  unknown  hand,  also  much  damaged,  but 
interesting  for  its  remarkable  power,  and  the  beauty  of 
the  Holy  Virgin. 

Behind  the  altar  I  found  Pordenone's  third  work, 
a  large  canvas  of  his  later  period  of  massive,  strenu- 
ous figures  (1535).  It  represents  the  glorification  of 
St.  Mark,  with  a  number  of  other  saints  of  heroic 
size,  including  S.  Alessandro  in  gleaming  armor,  and 
three  eharming  little  angels  playing  instruments. 
The  coloring,  once  so  gorgeous,  has  faded  away,  leav- 


FROM  TREVISO  TO   UDINE  267 

ing  the  huge  forms  without  any  very  pleasing  attri- 
butes; but  it  illustrates  the  master's  exceptional  abil- 
ity in  forceful,  clean,  well-modeled  drawing.  As  Va- 
sari  well  said,  "He  stood  preeminent  above  them  all, 
surpassing  his  predecessors  in  the  conception  of  his 
pieces,  in  design,  in  boldness,  and  the  use  of  his  colors 
in  his  frescoes,  in  rapidity,  in  grandeur  of  relief,  and 
indeed  in  every  other  accomplishment  of  the  art"; 
and  Lanzi,  "Pordenone  seemed  to  vie  with  Giorgione 
in  spirit,  a  spirit  equally  daring,  resolute,  and  great, 
surpassed  by  no  other,  perhaps,  in  the  Venetian 
school."  l 

There  was  one  more  first-class  painting  in  this 
Duomo,  a  splendid  example  of  Fogolino  of  Vicenza, 
over  the  third  altar  on  the  left  of  the  nave;  it  repre- 
sented the  Madonna  with  Saints  Biagio  and  Apol- 
lonia,  in  his  restricted  but  restful  quattrocento  style, 
remarkably  well  disposed  and  modeled,  the  tone  and 
color  gone,  but  still  of  enticing  grace,  —  especially 
in  the  lovely  Virgin.  The  picture  has  been  for  cen- 
turies highly  esteemed  in  Pordenone,  whose  people 
call  it  the  Madonna  della  Colonna.  During  the  same 
period  the  Cathedral  had  another,  similar  Fogolino 
of  much  renown,  which  I  could  find  no  trace  of,  —  an 
Apotheosis  of  St.  Francis,  between  Saints  Daniel 
and  John  the  Baptist.  In  the  small  baptismal  chapel 
onthc  lefl  I  saw  the  original  wooden  sides  of  the  ancient 
font,  preserved  in  glass  oases,  covered  with  uncom- 
monly quaint  little  pictures  from  the  life  of  the 
Baptist,  by  an  unknown  master,  —  not  Pordenone, 
as  alleged  by  the  simple  natives;  the  scenes  of  the 
Birth    and   ili«'  Banquet  of   Herod  were  unusually 

good. 

On   leaving  the  church   I  examined  a  fine  old  oak 
1  L'ui/i,  History  of  Painting,  vol.  u,  p,  147. 


S68  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

bench  of  five  seals,  placed  against  the  entrance  wall, 
within  a  railing,  and  richly  and  beautifully  carved; 
it  was  the  former  seat  of  the  city's  podestd,  and  as- 
sessors,  brought  here  for  preservation  from  the  Muni- 
cipio,-  a  relic  of  the  highest  development  of  that  wood 
sculpture  which  in  this  land  of  forests  was  its  first 
chief  art. 

I  recrossed  to  the  municipal  palace,  climbed  the 
stairway  behind  the  loggia  to  its  upper  floor,  and  in- 
vestigated the  pictures,  which  were  hung  around  the 
sides  of  the  main  salon  in  front.1  Among  the  several 
dozen  were  a  few  of  striking  excellence:  a  large  canvas 
(number  1)  of  Saints  Roch,  Sebastian,  and  Gothard, 
with  two  exquisite  cherubs  at  their  feet,  making  mu- 
sic under  an  open  temple-roof,  —  of  tender,  golden 
tone  and  light,  but  of  unknown  authorship;  a  specimen 
of  Alessandro  Varotari,  manifesting,  for  once,  real 
genius,  —  which  I  had  always  thought  he  wanted,  — 
showing  the  Madonna  with  the  infant  Christ,  who  is 
receiving  a  lily  from  a  female  personifying  Justice, 
St.  Mark  standing  at  the  right  with  his  Lion  (an  un- 
usual picture,  exceptionally  preserved  and  conspicuous, 
yet  of  daintiest  grace  and  coloring,  and  fine  atmo- 
spheric and  light-effects);  thirdly,  a  small,  restored, 
but  lovely  work  of  Leandro  Bassano's,  —  a  Madonna 
with  Saints  Catherine  and  John  the  Baptist,  replete 
with  excellence  of  composition  and  modeling,  rich,  soft 
coloring  and  sombrous  tone,  having  a  background,  to 
the  left,  of  a  Diaz-like  landscape,  and  to  the  right,  of 
a  bright  green  curtain,  before  which  the  attractive 
Madonna    worships    her    Son    with    downcast    eyes; 

1  This  was  the  chamber,  I  was  told,  in  which  Pordenone's  municipal 
council  bad  met  for  six  hundred  years;  that  unique  assembly  of  nobles  and 
bourgeois,  which  governed  the  city  so  well  and  steadily  during  all  the 
changes  and  agitations  of  the  Middle  Age.  The  room  itself  was  redeco- 
rated in  the  Renaissance. 


FROM  TREVISO  TO  UDINE  269 

finally,  and  chiefly,  the  extraordinary,  long,  narrow 
fresco  by  Pordenone,  which  was  removed  from  his 
house  when  the  latter  was  demolished  in  1838,  and 
hung  clear  across  the  end  of  the  chamber. 

This  is  a  strange  paysage,  of  much  variety,  clearly 
painted  by  the  master  for  diversion  in  his  light- 
some hours:  it  shows  a  fertile  valley,  with  a  distant 
village  at  the  foot  of  two  hills,  on  whose  shoulders 
rise  aged  castles  (an  exact  likeness  of  Ceneda,  even 
to  the  Duomo  tower),  with  the  line  of  the  serrated 
Alps  behind,  and  a  grove  at  one  side;  before  the 
latter  dance  a  number  of  peasants  to  the  playing 
of  flutes,  while  others  sit  about  or  drink  beer,  in 
genuine  Flemish  genre  style.  It  is  very  curious  and 
interesting  for  the  versatility  and  gay  spirit  it  mani- 
fests, -  -  for  nothing  ;more  opposite  to  the  glorious 
Holy  Family  of  the  Cathedral  could  easily  be  imag- 
ined; and  it  shows  Pordenone  a  good  master  of  land- 
scape, with  strong  powers  of  realistic  atmosphere  and 
perspective. 

After  this  there  was  nought  else  to  be  done  but  walk 
around  the  streets  of  the  old  town  on  the  north,  look- 
ing for  remains  of  frescoed  facades,  and  hunting  up 
Pordenone's  other  paintings  in  the  scattered  churches. 
Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle  said  in  their  day,"  We  find 
here  house  decoration  as  frequent  as  elsewhere, 
Mantegnesque  in  spirit  and  above  the  style  of  Dario"; 
but  now,  at  any  rate,  it  was  very  Utile  to  be  seen.  In 
the  church  "di  Torre"  was  a  delightful  Pordenone 
canvas,  of  the  Madonna  enthroned  between  four 
saints  and  some  pretty  angels;  and  in  those  of  "di 
Villanova"  and  "di  Roraigrande"  were  frescoes  of 
his  upon  t  he  choir-vaultings,  representing  the  Evangel- 
ists with  their  symbols,  and  prophets  and  doctors  of 
the  Church  general.    Altogether,  that  master's  native 


270  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

city,  though  little  interesting  in  itself,  and  though 
lacking  an  example  of  his  great  dramatic  frescoes, 
affords  perhaps  the  best  comprehension  to  be  obtained 
anywhere  now  of  the  deep  versatility  of  his  genius, 
in  its  varying  moods  and  different  ages. "? 


CHAPTER  VIII 

UDINE   AND    CIVIDALE 

The  moon  is  up,  and  yet  it  is  not  night  — 
Sunset  divides  the  sky  with  her  —  a  sea 
Of  glory  streams  along  the  Alpine  heights 
Of  blue  Friuli's  mountains. 

—  Childe  Harold. 

Of  all  the  storied  lands  of  Europe  this  is  the  most  pa- 
thetic and  the  most  laden  with  sorrowful  memories. 
The  sunset  that  lies  upon  its  peaks  shines  not  so  much 
with  glory  as  with  the  crimson  blood  of  its  countless 
slain  inhabitants;  and  its  advancing  shadows  hold  the 
smoke  of  numberless  burning  habitations.  Friuli  has 
been  the  most  important  and  perilous  frontier  of  all 
the  world's  long  ages.  It  became  Rome's  outpost  as 
early  as  183  B.C.,  when,  having  subdued  the  Boii  and 
taken  over  the  control  of  the  half  of  the  plain  south  of 
the  Po,  she  founded  Aquileia  at  the  foot  of  the  eastern 
Alps  and  the  Adriatic,  as  a  guard  against  further 
incursions  of  the  Celtic  tribes.  The  yEmilian  and  Cas- 
sian  highways  were  then  extended  to  the  north,  and 
Roman  cities  stretched  gradually  over  the  plain,  to 
Padua,  Concordia,  Opitergium  (Oderzo),  Utina,  and 
Portus  Naonis.  From  their  Forum  Julii  at  the  Alpine 
base,  this  whole  district  in  later  days  obtained  its 
name  of  Friuli.  Henceforth  it  was  a  perpetual  battle- 
ground for  the  Latin  people;  hardly  had  it  recovered 
from  the  long  wars  of  the  Roman  subjugation  of  the 
Celts,  when  it  became  the  scene  of  conflicts  between 
the  candidates  for  the  imperial  throne.  Proconsuls 
marching  their  legions  from   the  Orient  found  their 


272  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

advance  contested  at  the  end  of  the  Alpine  passes, 
and  the  garrisoned  cities  of  the  plain  defying  their  pro- 
gress.  When  Constantinople  became  a  capital,  there 
were  as  many  devastating  legions  marching  the  other 
way,  from  the  day  when  Constantine  rushed  with  only 
twenty  thousand  veterans  to  snatch  the  crown  from 
Licinius.  Ah,  how  many  unremembered  times  did 
those  wretched  Friulan  towns  suffer  siege,  assault,  and 
fiery  destruction,  at  the  hands  of  their  fellow  citizens, 
in  those  two  centuries  of  civil  strife. 

Yet  it  was  only  a  preparation  for  the  terrible  ages 
that  followed.  From  the  invasion  of  the  Visigoths  in 
•403  a.d.,  with  Alaric  at  their  head,  the  vast  onrush  of 
barbarians  from  the  East  turned  Friuli  into  a  blood- 
deluged  and  smoking  desert.  Attila  with  his  Huns  in 
45t2  first  earned  here  his  appellation  of  the  "Scourge 
of  God";  the  unlucky  province,  as  in  every  case,  re- 
ceived the  full  brunt  of  the  savages'  first  lust  and 
wrath,  and  scarcely  one  builded  stone  was  left  upon 
another.  After  Udine,  Aquileia  herself  was  seized  and 
destroyed.  The  castle  hill  that  rises  in  Udine's  centre 
from  the  perfect  level,  is  said  to  have  been  throwTn  up 
by  Attila's  order,  that  he  might  watch  from  its  sum- 
mit the  burning  of  the  sister-city,  —  an  impossible 
legend,  strangely  like  that  about  the  monster  Nero, 
yet  showing  by  its  very  excess  what  an  ineffaceable 
impression  of  horror  was  made  by  the  conqueror's 
brutality.  So  fell  magnificent  Aquileia,  with  her  my- 
riad marble  temples,  baths,  porticoes,  and  palaces, 
one  of  the  few  grandest  productions  of  Roman  genius 
and  civilization.  Padua,  Vicenza,  Verona,  Bologna, 
nearly  all  the  great  cities  of  the  plain,  sank  with  most 
of  the  little  ones  into  ashes,  before  this  incarnate  fiend. 
But  from  the  despoiled  fugitives  left  of  Aquileia's 
population,  who  had   fled  for  a  safe  retreat   to  the 


UDINE  AND  CIVIDALE  273 

marshy  islands  of  the  lagoons,  rose  that  city  of  fairy- 
land destined  to  be  greater  than  them  all,  and  to  rule 
them  in  after  days  with  immortal  splendor. 

Following  the  Huns,  in  489,  ruined  Friuli  was  de- 
scended upon  by  Theodoric  and  his  Ostrogoths.  They 
were  confronted  on  the  Isonzo,  that  flowed  past  the 
remains  of  Aquileia,  by  Odoacer,  the  recently  ap- 
pointed ruler  of  Italy,  king  of  the  settled  Visigothic 
tribes,  who  were  intrenched  in  a  fortified  camp;  and 
one  of  those  momentous  battles  of  the  world  took  place, 
of  which  this  unfortunate  district  saw  so  many.  The 
Ostrogoths  —  in  spite  of  inferior  numbers,  and  of 
being  incumbered  by  their  long  trains  of  women  and 
children,  oxen  and  belongings  —  swam  the  river,  took 
the  fortresses  by  fierce  assault,  and  scattered  their  ene- 
mies far  and  wide.  Theodoric  seized  what  was  left  of 
the  poor  Friulan  towns,  but  did  not  burn  them,  —  an 
act  he  was  above;  he  went  on  to  defeat  Odoacer  at  a 
decisive  battle  near  Verona,  occupy  all  of  North  Italy, 
and  reign  very  justly  till  his  death  in  527. 

Then  came  the  armies  of  the  great  Justinian,  to 
reconquer  Italy  for  the  Byzantine  throne,  and  make 
Ravenna  the  seat  of  his  viceroy's  government.  Then 
Alboin  and  his  Lombards,  in  5G8,  who  grasped  Friuli 
and  the  greater  part  of  the  peninsula  with  a  grip  which 
did  not  relax  for  two  hundred  years.  Alboin  divided 
his  new  realm  into  thirty-six  separate  duchies,  of 
which  Friuli  was  one;  and  this  he  bestowed  upon  his 
nephew  Gisulf,  who  immediately  placed  his  capital  at 
Forum  Julii,       thenceforth  known  as  Cividale. 

Gisulf,  after  a  noble  reign,  perished  in  defending  his 
duchy  againsl  the  invading  Mongolian  Avars,  in  the 
early  years  of  the  succeeding  century;  once  more  the 
miserable  people  suffered  the  consequence  of  their 
frontier  location.    It  was  then  that  occurred  the  mem- 


874  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

orable  tragedy  of  Romilda,  the  Lombard  princess, 
who  opened  the  gates  of  Forum  Julii  to  her  barbarian 
lover,  saw  her  city  ruined  under  her  eyes,  and  reaped 
that  horrible,  exceptional  fate  which  Gibbon  so  viv- 
idly narrates.1  A  large  number  of  luckless  Friulans 
were  borne  away  captive,  the  men  to  be  massacred 
in  Pannonia,  the  women  and  children  doomed  to  the 
worse  fate  of  slavery.  Finally  came  the  Franks  under 
Charlemagne,  who  seized  the  oft-conquered  towns  and 
constituted  the  province  a  county  of  his  own  realm, 
toward  the  close  of  the  eighth  century. 

Under  the  loose  sway  of  the  Frankish  counts  the 
Church  gradually  assumed  the  chief  power  in  Friuli. 
Counts  and  Archbishops  dwelt  together  in  Cividale; 
the  latter  having  removed  there  from  ruined  Aquileia, 
after  their  return  from  Grado,  —  a  place  in  the  adja- 
cent lagoons,  where  they  and  many  of  their  flock  had 
found  asylum  during  the  ravages  of  the  Huns.  The 
Archbishop  was  Patriarch  of  Friuli,  Istria,  and  Dal- 
matia,  and  when  he  departed  from  Grado,  had  left 
there  in  charge  a  local  bishop,  whose  see  was  soon 
rapidly  increased  by  the  arrival  of  more  refugees. 
After  the  coming  of  the  Lombards  with  their  Arian 
faith,  it  was  embraced  by  the  Patriarch  of  Aquileia,2 
along  with  all  his  subject  bishops,  excepting  Grado 
alone;  Elias,  Bishop  of  Grado,  thereupon  seized  the 
opportunity  to  obtain  from  Pope  Pelagius  II  in  579  a 
law  making  him  and  his  successors  the  Patriarchs  of 
the  Lagoons  and  Istria.  Such  was  the  foundation  of 
the  Metropolitan  See  of  Venice;  which  grew  in  power 
constantly  with  the  growth  of  the  island  towns,  and 
provoked  the  envious  hatred  of  Cividale. 

1  Gibbon,  Decline  and  Fall,  vol.  rv. 

!  Tbia  wslb  the  primate's  customary  title,  and  continued  to  be  so  after 
the  removal  to  Cividale,  and  to  Udine. 


CIVIDALE.     SAN    PELTRUDI9.     l.\Kl.\    LOMBARD  8CULPTU  RES. 


UDINE  AND   CIVIDALE  275 

For  six  hundred  years  the  reverend  Patriarchs  of 
Aquileia,  not  satisfied  with  their  sway  upon  the  main- 
land, —  which  extended  to  the  Mincio  in  the  west,  — 
never  ceased  their  efforts  to  recover  the  lost  territory 
of  Istria  and  the  Lagoons;  and  the  history  of  Friuli 
became  in  part  a  series  of  wars  waged  by  one  holy  pre- 
late against  the  other.  Several  times  the  hot  attacks 
upon  Grado  by  the  Friulans,  led  by  their  Patriarch, 
succeeded  in  taking  the  city  and  expelling  its  churchly 
ruler;  but  at  last  Venice  took  a  hand  in  favor  of  the 
latter,  after  one  of  these  expulsions,  effected  with  the 
aid  of  the  Emperor  Frederick.  She  attacked  Aqui- 
leia with  her  war-fleet,  and  brought  its  Patriarch  in 
chains  to  the  Doge's  palace.  Thereafter  his  success- 
ors were  obliged  for  many  generations  to  send  to  the 
Republic  a  yearly,  ironical  tribute  of  twelve  pigs. 

The  result  of  these  centuries  of  strange  warfare  be- 
tween Friuli  and  the  Lagoons  was  the  end  of  the  Pa- 
triarchs' dominance  over  the  Friulans,  and  their  entire 
subjection  to  Venice.  In  the  first  years  of  the  fifteenth 
century  the  Emperor  Sigismund  waged  war  against 
the  Serene  Republic,  and  the  Patriarch  of  Aquileia, 
with  his  allied  forces,  once  more  siezed  the  opportun- 
ity to  attack  Grado  and  the  towns  of  the  lagoon;  but 
Venice  acted  quickly,  and  before  the  Emperor  could 
send  assistance,  overran  and  conquered  the  whole 
Friulan  territory,  and,  despite  all  combinations  and 
excommunications,  retained  it  as  her  permanent  pro- 
vince. Cividale  was  occupied  in  141!),  (Jdine  in  1420, 
and  the  latter  -then  grown  to  be  the  larger  city,  and 
the  seal  of  the  Patriarchs  was  made  the  capital  of  the 
province;  while  the  primates  themselves  were  reduced 
to  simple  archbishops,  without  any  temporal  power.1 

1  Tliis  revolution  left  the  Patriarch  of  Grado  alum-  in  Lis  primacy;  but 
in  1440  the  Venetian!  removed  lii^  teal  to  si .  Mark's,  —  to  produce  long 
after,  from  one  of  it>  }■< >!•  i«  rs.  the  good  Pope  thai  reigns  to-day. 


378  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Friuli  now  had  peace  at  last;  prosperity  developed 
under  the  kind  Venetian  rule,  and  with  it  the  retarded 
arts  of  the  Renaissance.  The  wood-carvers  of  the 
forests  laid  aside  the  chisel  and  took  up  the  brush, 
laboriously  teaching  themselves,  for  two  generations, 
the  principles  of  drawing.  So  were  evolved  without 
outride  leaching  those  two  quaint  painters  of  the  lat- 
ter part  of  the  quattrocento,  the  best  of  their  fellows, 
—  Domenico  da  Tolmezzo  and  Andrea  Bellunello; 
they  turned  out  earnest,  naive,  sentimental  pictures, 
with  little  power  of  modeling,  grace,  or  coloring,  but 
decidedly  good  considering  their  authors'  lack  of 
advantages.  Their  figures  and  groups  of  holy  person- 
ages were  drawn  with  a  faithfulness,  a  sincerity,  a 
deep  feeling,  that  lift  the  results  above  mere  categories 
of  points  successful  or  failed,  into  expositions  of  two 
lovable,  believing  human  souls.  One  forgets  the  brush 
in  thinking  of  the  artist.  To  them,  if  to  any  painters 
that  have  lived,  are  applicable  Lytton's  significant 
words :  — 

For  Art  in  Nature  made  by  Man, 
To  Man  the  interpreter  of  God.1 

At  last,  about  1500,  the  methods  of  Venetian  paint- 
ing penetrated  the  country,  and  graduates  of  the 
school  of  Giovanni  Bellini  awoke  the  Friulans  with 
their  graceful  work.  Of  these  the  first  to  gain  pro- 
minence were  Giovanni  Martini,  and  that  Martino 
d'  Udine,  Friuli's  primary  genius,  who  was  called  "Pel- 
legrino"  (singular)  by  his  master,  on  account  of  his 
unusual  ability,  and  "da  S.  Daniele"  after  the  town 
where  lie  long  resided  and  executed  his  masterpieces. 
They  were  great  rivals;  but  "the  style  of  the  former 
wa>  harsh  and  crude,  though  not  destitute  of  grace,"2 
and  the  latter  far  excelled  him  both  in  execution  and 

1  Lord  Lytton,  The  Artist.  2  Lanzi,  History  of  Painting. 


UDIXE  AND  CIVIDALE  277 

in  beauty.  Girolamo  da  Udine  also  developed  a  charm- 
ing Bellinesque  manner. 

After  these  men  came  the  disciples  of  Titian  and 
Giorgione,  —  including  Friuli's  second  genius,  Por- 
denone,  and  that  excellent  decorator,  Giovanni  da 
Udine,  with  whom  all  are  familiar  from  his  labors  in 
Rome;  he  studied  under  Raffaele  as  well  as  Barbarelli, 
and  brought  into  Friuli  upon  his  return  that  use  of 
grotesques,  named  after  Raphael,  with  which  he 
became  chiefly  identified.  In  the  next  generation,  in- 
cluding Pordenone's  disciple,  Amalteo,  who  was  con- 
siderably above  his  fellows,  the  art  entered  upon  its 
steady  decline;  and  produced  thenceforth  no  Friulan 
worker  of  first-rate  ability,  —  if  we  except  Antonio 
Carnio,  in  the  seventeenth  century,  in  whom  was  the 
last  flare-up  of  the  dying  fire. 

Udine,  the  Roman  Utina,  which  has  taken  the  place 
of  Aquileia  and  Cividale  as  the  capital  of  Friuli,  lies  less 
than  ten  miles  from  the  eastern  Alpine  wall,  and  some 
twenty  miles  north  of  the  lagoons,  upon  the  Roggia 
Canal,  connecting  the  rivers  Torre  and  Connor,  upon 
either  side.  About  five  miles  to  its  northwest  rises  the 
chain  of  foothills,  separated  from  the  Alps,  in  which 
nestles  the  town  of  S.  Daniele.  The  reason  for  Udine's 
existence  in  earliest  times,  and  its  survival  of  all  dis- 
asters, is  that  it  has  always  been  the  junction  of  the 
highways,  once  traversed  by  horse  and  now  by  train, 
which  enter  the  plain  from  Austria;  —  one  of  these 
passes  descending  from  the  north  1  >y  the  valleys  of  the 
TagliamentO  and  the  Fella,  the  other  crossing  by  way 
of  Gory,  on  the  east.  This  was  an  important  position, 
strategically  as  well  as  commercially;  and  the  history 
of  Udine,  accordingly,  has  been  in  large  part  that  of 
Friuli.  It  succeeded  Cividale  as  the  virtual  capital 
of  the   province  about    1248,   when  it  was  formally 


878  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

designated  by  the  Patriarch  of  Aquileia  as  the  resi- 
dence of  his  successors. 

When  the  Venetians  seized  the  province  in  1420, 
Udine  held  out  under  siege  beyond  the  other  cities, 
endeavoring  to  preserve  the  safety  of  her  patriarchal 
ruler;  but  when  the  latter  fled  by  stealth  to  the 
Count  of  Gorizia,  Udine  became  an  unwavering  Vene- 
tian subject.  After  Napoleon  in  1797  had  chased  the 
Austrians  out  of  Italy,  following  them  to  the  very 
gates  of  the  Julian  Alps,  it  was  at  the  little  village  of 
( lampo  Formio,  only  four  miles  from  the  capital,  that 
the  terms  of  peace  were  arranged  and  signed.  Al- 
though by  them  France  received  the  Netherlands,  and 
Austria  recognized  the  independence  of  the  Cisalpine 
and  Ligurian  Republics,  Friuli  and  all  the  Venetian 
territories  east  of  the  Adige  passed  under  a  foreign 
yoke;  and  when,  after  sixty  years  of  suffering  and 
struggling,  Friuli  was  finally  freed  by  the  war  of  1866, 
Udine  saw  the  Austrian  boundary  drawn  hardly  a 
dozen  miles  beyond,  leaving  in  their  hated  hands 
Gorizia,  Trieste,  Istria,  and  Dalmatia,  —  all  the  east- 
ern lands  of  Venice,  vibrating  still  with  her  speech  and 
pride,  and  which  Italians  will  never  rest  satisfied  till 
they  have  joined  once  more  to  the  motherland. 

The  castle  hill  of  Udine  —  which  certainly  has 
every  appearance  of  artificial  construction  —  stood  at 
the  northern  side  of  the  oval  of  the  original,  smaller 
town,  whose  outline  is  still  clearly  visible  upon  the 
plan,  marked  by  the  broad  streets  replacing  the  walls; 
to-day  all  this  is  inclosed  in  the  middle  of  the  modern 
city,  — a  quadrilateral  many  times  the  former  size;  so 
that  the  castle  now  stands  a  little  north  of  the  city's 
centre.  The  Roggia  Canal  penetrates  the  quadrangle 
on  its  northern  side,  flows  around  the  east  side  of  the 
original  oval,  —  which  it  completely  encircled  as  a 


UDINE  AND  CIVIDALE  279 

moat  in  the  first  place,  —  and  emerges  on  the  south  by 
the  side  of  the  railroad  station.  The  lofty  embankment 
of  the  Renaissance  walls  is  still  standing  upon  the 
southern,  eastern,  and  eastern  half  of  the  northern 
sides  of  the  rectangle,  and  on  its  western  side  has  been 
replaced  by  a  shady  parkway. 

Roundabout  the  old  citadel,  inevitably,  are  found 
the  centres  of  the  city's  life:  along  its  western  base  lies 
the  lengthy,  ancient  market-place,  still  called  the  Mer- 
cato  Vecchio;  at  its  southern  angle  lies  the  smaller 
Piazza  Vittorio  Emanuele,  fronted  by  the  Municipio, 
the  town  loggia,  the  clock-  and  bell-tower,  and  the  or- 
nate, arched  entrance  to  the  castle  grounds;  and  on  its 
northeastern  flank  stretches  the  vast  Piazza  d'Armi, 
five  hundred  yards  long  by  three  hundred  wide. 
To  the  south  of  this  piazza  and  the  hill,  rise  the 
other  chief  public  buildings,  —  the  Duomo,  Prefet- 
tura,  Archbishop's  Palace,  and  Tribunale.  From  the 
Piazza  Vittorio  Emanuele  the  principal  thorough- 
fare runs  southeasterly,  past  the  Cathedral,  under  the 
names  of  Via  Posta  and  Via  Aquileia,  to  the  main 
gate  called  Porta  Aquileia.  This  pierces  the  southern 
city  wall  a  little  east  of  the  station;  and  some  dis- 
tance west  of  it  opens  another  gateway  called  Porta 
Cussignacco,  from  which  the  other  main  street  runs 
windingly,  under  different  names,  through  the  promi- 
nent Piazzas  Garibaldi  and  Venti  Settembre,  north- 
ward to  the  market-place.  Between  these  two  city 
gates,  outside  the  ramparts  and  yet  north  of  the  rail- 
road tracks,  a  new  residence  quarter  has  lately  arisen, 
containing  a  number  of  avenues  with  glaring  modern 
houses,  standing  in  extensive  lawns  and  gardens, — 
which  stretch  behind  the  buildings  and  do  not  hide 
their  ugliness. 

When,  therefore,  I  had  arrived  late  in  the  afternoon 


280  PLAIN-TOWNS   OF  ITALY 

from  Pordenone,  after  a  journey  of  no  special  interest, 
beyond  the  crossing  of  the  wide  stony  bed  of  the  his- 
torical Tagliamento,1  —  this  new  section  was  my  first 
glimpse  of  Udine.  I  entered  the  omnibus  of  the  Al- 
bergo  Italia,  theretofore  recommended  to  me  as  a  fam- 
ous old  hostelry,  and  was  driven  westward  through 
the  aforesaid  modern  streets  to  Porta  Cussignacco. 
Here  an  official  of  the  octroi  duties  appeared  and  went 
through  the  usual  performance,  opening  the  door  and 
asking  if  we  had  anything  dutiable,  shutting  it  again 
before  we  had  fairly  responded  with  the  customary 
negative.  It  is  strange  how  the  cities  cling  to  that 
antiquated  method  of  raising  revenue,  —  for  taxing 
food  and  drink  is  the  unfairest  of  all  systems,  bearing 
heavily  upon  the  poor  and  hardly  touching  the  rich; 
but  I  had  found  of  late  a  few  towns  that  had  abolished 
it,  like  Vittorio  and  Conegliano;  and  at  any  rate  it  is 
more  civilly  executed  than  years  ago,  when  I  some- 
times had  to  suffer  the  entire  ransacking  of  my  lug- 

SaSe-  ..       . 

Inside  the  gate  the  way  became  instantly  medieval, 

—  narrow  and  dark,  between  aged,  stuccoed  dwellings, 

—  and  so  led  us  windingly  to  the  broad  Piazza  Venti 
Settembre,  four  or  five  hundred  yards  southwest  of  the 
castle,  and  to  the  inn  facing  it  upon  its  western  end. 
The  usual  driveway  pierced  the  arcade  of  the  buildings, 
to  the  stable-yard  behind;  on  the  left  of  the  passage 

1  As  an  instance  of  the  extraordinary  rapidity  with  which  these  rivers 
have  raised  their  beds  since  they  were  confined  by  dikes,  showing  the  tre- 
mendous masses  of  stony  detritus  brought  annually  from  the  Alps,  which 
they  used  to  scatter  over  the  plain,  it  should  be  noted  that  the  town  of 
Codroipo,  on  the  Tagliamento's  left  bank,  now  lies  at  a  level  some  thirty 
feet  below  the  torrent's  present  bed.  One  can  therefore  understand  the 
devastation  caused  when  such  a  stream  breaks  loose.  In  flood-times  there 
ia  a  watchman,  night  and  day,  to  every  hundred  yards  upon  the  dikes. 
Casarsa,  on  the  Tagliamento's  right  bank  here,  holds  in  its  church  some 
fairly  good  frescoes  of  Pordenone,  of  his  middle  period  (1525). 


UDINE  AND  CIVIDALE  281 

and  yard  were  the  dining-rooms  and  kitchen,  while  a 
stairway  on  the  right  ascended  to  the  upper  hall,  and 
the  dark  tortuous  corridors  leading  to  the  chambers 
of  the  different  floors.  The  heavy,  cumbrous  furniture 
looked  unaltered  from  a  couple  of  centuries  ago;  but 
everything  was  quite  clean  and  comfortable,  and  its 
very  age  produced  that  sensation  of  homelikeness 
which  is  so  pleasing  in  the  old-fashioned  country  inns. 
I  was  given  a  fine  large  bedroom  looking  upon  the  rear 
garden;  and  found  the  cooking  excellent. 

When  I  went  out  the  next  morning,  the  deserted 
shadowy  piazza  of  the  evening  hour  had  altered  to  a 
dazzling  scene  of  active  life;  the  sun  poured  down  from 
a  cloudless  sky  upon  a  village  of  canvas  roofs  dotting 
the  inclosure,  which  joined  with  the  flagged  pavement 
in  radiating  the  flood  of  light.  It  was  now  the  grain 
market  of  the  city,  but  the  booths  shone  richly  with 
nearly  every  kind  of  produce;  the  old  peasant  women 
who  tended  them  chattered  and  laughed  noisily, 
children  rolled  and  shrieked  in  every  corner,  and 
crowds  of  men  and  house-wives  trafficked  and  ges- 
ticulated. The  old  house-fagades  surrounding  the 
place  complemented  the  scene,  with  their  deep  ar- 
cades on  piers  and  heavy  pillars,  their  stained  stucco 
faces  of  the  upper  stories,  and  windows  of  every  by- 
gone shape  and  condition.  In  the  centre  was  a  hand- 
sonic  stone  fountain  of  Renaissance  days,  with  two 
basins,  and  near  (lie  western  end,  a  lofty  marble 
column  surmounted  by  a  quaint,  crowned  figure  of 
the  Bkfadonna.  Just  behind  this  rose  the  only  building 
of  any  pretensions,  adjacent  to  the  inn,  — a  marble- 
faced,  religious  structure  of  rococo  design,  ugly  in  its 
details  of  window-frame,  niche, and  gable,  but  effective 
;i>  a  glowing  whole,  with  its  ornate,  columned  belfry, 
and  baroque  statues  lining  the  cornice. 


282  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Moving  through  the  crowd,  I  saw  a  couple  of  men 
in  garb  so  strange  that  I  did  not  for  an  instant  dis- 
cern their  occupation;  they  wore  long,  black,  single- 
breasted  coats  reaching  to  their  feet,  with  no  braid 
nor  other  ornamentation,  and  ported  high  hats  and 
long  heavy  batons,  —  presenting  altogether  a  most 
funereal  appearance,  and  reminding  me  of  nothing  so 
much  as  an  undertaker  combined  with  a  poor  Eng- 
lish country  beadle.  But  they  were  gendarmes,  and 
it  was  the  regular  police  costume  of  the  city.  Aston- 
ishingly different,  this,  from  the  gold  lace,  epaulettes, 
cocked  hats,  fancy  swords,  and  general  bird-of -paradise 
costume  of  the  usual  Italian  gendarme;  and  it  demon- 
strates better  than  a  chapter  of  description  the  similar 
difference  in  the  character  of  these  North  Italians 
from  that  of  their  brethren  farther  south.  They  are 
so  much  nearer  to  northern  coldness,  quiet,  and  sim- 
plicity, which  detest  showiness,  and  the  use  of  cold 
steel  in  the  time  of  peace.  The  same  sort  of  police 
uniform,  modeled  upon  those  of  England  and  Hol- 
land, prevails  in  some  of  the  other  North  Italian 
towns. 

From  the  end  of  this  piazza  I  followed  a  street  north- 
eastward that  brought  me  shortly  to  the  front  of  the 
Cathedral,  which  is  set  off  by  open  spaces  on  three 
sides,  and  backs  upon  the  Via  della  Posta;  —  a  spacious 
brick  building  of  the  thirteenth  century,  originally  of 
the  transition  style  between  Romanesque  and  Gothic, 
but  with  its  once  noble  facade  mutilated  by  baroque 
portals.  These  were  just  in  process  of  being  removed, 
in  a  wholesome  restoration.  I  could  see  the  original 
main  entrance,  cleared  of  the  mean  additions,  revealed 
as  a  beautiful  pointed  archway,  recessed  with  elaborate 
mouldings,  in  which  lingered  the  foot-rests  and  can- 
opies of  vanished  statuettes;  and  in  the  tympanum 


UDINE  AND  CIVIDALE  283 

was  one  of  those  delightfully  quaint,  early  reliefs,  — 
of  the  Crucifixion  and  the  Lamb. 

Above,  there  stretched  across  the  facade  from  shoul- 
der to  shoulder  one  of  those  interesting,  Lombardesque, 
arcaded  cornices,  of  crossed  round  arches  springing 
from  coupled,  slender  shafts,  the  intersections  form- 
ing pointed  trefoils;  at  the  ends  of  this  arcade,  and  in 
the  gable,  were  three  circular,  brick,  false  windows, 
recessed  with  many  mouldings,  which  doubtless  once 
were  filled  with  open  tracery.  There  were  two  more 
handsome  Gothic  portals,  in  the  sides  of  the  church, 
which  had  never  been  demolished  and  still  partly  pre- 
served their  exquisite  marble  sculptures;  and  far 
above  the  roof  soared  the  ponderous  old  six-sided 
campanile. 

In  the  extensive,  dusky  interior  I  found  the  un- 
usual design,  for  Venetia,  of  a  nave  with  two  aisles 
on  each  side,  —  the  outer,  lower  aisles  being  ar- 
ranged as  two  series  of  open  chapels;  six  enormous 
pillars  lined  the  nave,  and  shorter  pillars  divided  the 
inner  from  the  outer  aisles;  there  was  no  transept,  but 
an  elevated  'presbytery  extended  from  wall  to  wall, 
arched  by  frescoed  groinings  and  a  double  dome 
painted  with  a  cloudy  paradise;  the  choir  was  further 
elevated;  and  the  only  light  penetrating  the  chiaroscuro 
entered  through  the  dome  and  the  small  clerestory 
windows.  On  the  wall  over  the  main  enhance  pranced 
a  Late-Renaissance  equestrian  statue  (1017)  of  General 
Count  Antonini  of  Udine;1  the  other  main  sculptures 

1  This  statue,  with  a  similar  one  to  Marc,  di  Manzano  in  the  Duomo  of 
Cividale,  was  erected  by  the  Venetian  Government  to  the  memory  of 

thoM  tWO  Valiant   Priulan  captains,  wlio  fill  fi^'htiiif,'  against  tin-  imperial- 

The  remarkable  manner  in  winch  this  great  church,  with  its  I > road 
open  presbytery  and  choir,  elevated  above  the  nave,  is  adapted  to  show- 
ing off  the  magnificent  ceremonies  that  have  been  traditional  with  the 
patriarchate,  is  also  worthy  of  attention. 


284  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

were  two  remarkable  benches  of  choir-stalls  at  the 
ends  of  the  presbytery,  richly  carved  with  designs  and 
reliefs  of  Biblical  scenes  and  martyrdoms,  also  an  an- 
cient marble  sarcophagus  behind  the  high-altar,  with 
Early-Christian  reliefs  crudely  depicting  the  Flagella- 
tion and  the  Crucifixion,  —  a  very  interesting  relic. 

The  church  was  a  veritable  gallery  of  Friulan  paint- 
ings, containing  works  of   Bellunello,  Domenico  da 
Tolmezzo,   Girolamo   da  Udine,   Giovanni    Martini, 
Pellegrino  da  S.  Daniele,  Amalteo,  and  Pordenone, 
besides  other  masters  of  less  importance;  and  chief  of 
them  all  were  the  two  splendid  specimens  of  those  long 
dead  rivals,  Martini  and  Pellegrino,  standing  appro- 
priately side  by  side,  on  the  first  two  altars  to  the  left. 
Martini's  (done  in  1501)  represents  St.  Mark  enthroned 
between  two  bishops;  and,  though  faded  in  tone  and 
color,  leaving  now  only  estimates  as  to  its  original 
brilliancy,  it  is  of  excellent  composition  and  drawing, 
and  a  certain  picturesque  grace.    Pellegrino's  (done  in 
1502)  has  the  advantage  of  much  better  preservation, 
and  is  generally  more  effective  and  lovely,  showing 
the  superiority  of  his  genius.  This  really  famous  picture 
represents  St.  Joseph  holding  in  his  arms  the  infant 
Christ,  with  the  young  St.  John  leaning  near  by  against 
a  railing  and  gazing  tenderly  at  the  Child,  —  and  a 
stately  background  of  classic  building,  ruinous  and 
romantic;  there  is  a  curious,  died-out,  old-gold  tone, 
with  a  sense  of  gentle  and  seraphic  feeling;  and  the 
boyish  form  of  the  Baptist  is  thoroughly  enchanting. 
Lanzi  says  of  the  former,  that  it  is  "the  richest  speci- 
men which  appeared  from  his  [Martini's]  hands,"  and 
of  the  latter,  that  it  is  "still  worthy  of  admiration  for 
its  architecture,"  and   each  of  its  figures  "displays 
the  finest  contours  and  the  best  forms."  l 

1  Lanzi,  History  of  Painting. 


UDINE  AND  CIVIDALE  285 

Pordenone's  works  were  in  the  sacristy,  —  three 
small  canvases,  of  which  one,  the  burial  of  a  saint, 
was  poor  and  of  doubtful  authenticity.  The  other  two, 
Christ  raising  Lazarus  and  a  bishop  healing  a  woman, 
were  full  of  exceptional  feeling  and  good  atmosphere, 
and  one  contained  a  very  grand  figure  of  the  Saviour. 
From  this  room  the  old  sacristan  conducted  me  across 
the  street  on  the  south  side  of  the  Duorao  to  a  little 
church  called  the  Chiesa  alia  Purita,  which  he  opened 
with  his  keys  and  showed  me  lined  about  with  large 
paintings. 

It  was  a  single-storied  chapel,  with  a  flat  ceiling 
and  another  floor  above  it,  simple  in  lines  and  fur- 
nishings and  of  modern  appearance;  but  it  dated  from 
the  seicento,  and  had  been  decorated  with  nine  pic- 
tures by  the  Tiepoli,  father  and  son.  Now  the  Tie- 
poli  were  artists  very  little  fitted  to  adorn  a  sacred 
place  or  reproduce  a  religious  scene,  and  I  gazed  at 
this  their  attempt  to  swim  in  an  alien  element  with 
much  curiosity.  The  work  of  Giovanni  Battista,  the 
father,  consisted  of  one  of  his  large,  circular  ceiling 
frescoes,  intended  to  represent  the  Ascension  of  the 
Virgin;  and  showed  his  customary  white  clouds,  blue 
spaces,  and  scattered  flying  figures,  in  his  usual  gay  tone 
and  tin  Is.  There  was  actually  no  difference  from  his 
regular  reproductions  of  Olympus  and  Greek  gods,  if 
I  except  possibly  the  uplifted,  rapl  face  and  pose  of  the 
Virgin's  figure,  which  were  undeniably  devotional. 
Otherwise  it  was  positively  amusing.  The  work  of 
Tiepolo,  junior,  consisted  of  eight  large  pictures  in 
grisaille  upon  the  walls,  above  the  wainscoting,  re- 
presenting both  Old  and  New  Testamenl  scenes:  such 

;i>  Eliaa  and  the  bears,  a  strong  and  realistic  tableau; 
the  entry  into  Jerusalem,  —  wit  h  an  unbearded  Christ ; 
Jacob   dying  amidst    his   twelve  sons, — of  excellent 


286  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

dramatic  force;  the  Sons  of  Maccabeus,  —  finely 
composed  and  acted,  —  and  so  on.  These  pictures, 
though  poor  in  modeling  and  grace,  had  much  power 
and  drama  lie  value,  and  showed  the  son  much  superior 
to  the  father  in  versatility  and  expression. 

From  the  rear  of  the  Duomo  I  now  followed  the 
Via  Posta  northwestward,  coming  quickly  to  the 
Piazza  Vittorio  Emanuele.  Before  my  delighted  eyes 
opened  one  of  the  most  pictureque  city  squares  of  all 
Italy,  —  so  varied,  so  faced  with  beautiful  architect- 
ure, so  adorned  with  handsome  arcades,  columns, 
and  statuary,  so  imposingly  dominated  by  the  vast 
castle  towering  upon  its  hilltop  overhead,  that  I  stood 
still,  enraptured.  The  place  is  an  elongated  rectangle 
stretching  northwest  and  southeast,  with  the  citadel 
rising  above  its  northern  corner;  the  continuation  of 
the  Via  Posta  extends  with  its  tramway  tracks  along 
the  southwestern  flank,  divided  from  the  rest  of  the 
open  by  a  stone  parapet,  upon  which  the  remaining, 
larger  space  is  terraced  as  a  monumental  promenade, 
sloping  gently  with  the  hill's  first  inclination  up  to  a 
splendid  portico  on  the  right. 

This  portico  is  an  exquisite  Renaissance  arcade,  long 
and  deep,  entirely  of  glistening  marble,  whose  fair, 
rounded  arches  rise  upon  slender  Ionic  columns;  an 
approaching  flight  of  marble  steps  extends  the  whole 
length;  and  in  the  centre  it  is  lifted  to  two  stories  by 
a  square  pavilion,  faced  by  a  huge  archway,  twice  the 
height  of  the  colonnade,  which  is  sustained  by  triple 
clusters  of  Ionic  shafts.  Behind  the  pavilion  rise  a 
graceful  dome  and  lantern,  upon  whose  left  the  muni- 
cipal clock-  and  bell-tower  soars  into  the  blue.  This 
is  another  beautiful  Renaissance  monument,  in  two 
divisions  visible  above  the  top  parapet  of  the  loggia: 
the  first  of  heavy,  rusticated,  stone  blocks,  faced  by 


UDINE  AND  CIVIDALE  287 

the  old  relief  of  the  winged  Venetian  Lion,  the  second 
containing  the  clock-face,  with  handsome  large  Ionic 
columns  at  its  angles,  upholding  a  ponderous  entab- 
lature; while  on  its  flat  summit  stand  the  customary 
Venetian  bell,  and  bronze  figures  wielding  hammers. 
What  a  reverence  and  admiration  all  these  towns  must 
have  had  for  their  overlord,  to  reproduce  so  faithfully 
and  repeatedly  the  various  features  of  her  Piazza  of 
St.  Mark. 

Higher  still  than  the  bell  and  its  beaters  rises  the 
great  castle  upon  its  eminence,  gazing  proudly  down 
through  a  hundred  windows  upon  the  square  at  its  feet, 
commanding  the  whole  city  and  the  country  far  and 
wide.  But  castle  as  it  is  still  always  called,  the  appel- 
lation is  a  misnomer;  for  the  original  fortress,1  dating 
from  Roman  days,  was  destroyed  in  the  quattrocento, 
and  the  height  recrowned  in  1517  by  this  Renaissance 
palace,  built  by  Giovanni  Fontana.  So  that  instead  of 
a  ponderous  fortress  greeting  my  eyes,  I  saw  a  palatial, 
six-storied,  flat-roofed  edifice,  faced  with  plaster  now 
decaying,  and  endowed  with  a  severe  sameness  by  its 
countless  square-headed  windows,  which  had  no  other 
ornamentation  than  simple  ledges  and  cornices.  Its 
only  unusual  feature  was  the  lofty  basement,  rising  to 
half  the  total  height  and  separated  from  the  piano 
nobile  by  a  cornicione  fully  as  heavy  as  the  top  one. 

The  church  of  I  lie  castle  was  visible  on  its  right,  de- 
tached, marked  for  a  church  only  by  the  huge  cam- 
panile, which  rose  in  several  long  divisions  to  an  ornate 
Renaissance  belfry,  with  a  pointed  dome  topped  by  a 
monstrous,  Hying,  bronze  angel,  far  above  the  palace- 
roof.  Around  the  palace  were  also  visible  the  green 
lawns  of  the  hilltop,  and  bunches  <»!'  trees  on  each  side. 

1  In  thai  building  dwelt  the  patriarchal  ruleno!  Udinc,  from  the  thir- 
teenth century. 


288  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Within  the  huge  building — once  occupied  by  the  stately 
Venetian  Government,  and  its  political  prisoners, 
groaning  in  the  underground  dungeons  left  from  an- 
cienl  days  —  now  remained  nothing  whatever,  as  I  was 
told,  except  the  city's  collections  of  art  and  antiquity. 

I  lowered  my  eyes  again  to  the  piazza,  and  advanced 
upon  the  terrace  to  examine  the  imposing  lines  of 
sculpture  that  make  it  radiant.  If  the  Anglo-Saxon 
people  in  general  once  realized  the  incalculable  bene- 
fit rendered  to  a  city  by  an  abundance  of  heroic  monu- 
ments, which  not  only  make  it  beautiful  and  beloved, 
but  awaken  and  sustain  in  the  inhabitants  sentiments 
of  civic  patriotism  and  ambition,  some  of  their  wealthy 
philanthropists  would  certainly  divert  their  money  to 
such  embellishments.  Here  was  a  whole  city  made  im- 
pressive by  the  inspiring  monuments  of  its  piazzas. 
Before'  the  great  central  archway  of  the  portico, 
reared  a  fine  equestrian  statue  of  Victor  Emmanuel, 
in  bronze,  upon  a  lofty  marble  pedestal,  which  was 
covered  with  faded  wreaths  deposited  by  patriots. 
At  the  middle  of  the  northern  end  rose  a  splendid  marble 
Goddess  of  Peace,  throned  high  above  an  encircling 
stairway,  —  a  memento  of  the  pact  of  Campo  Formio. 
Here,  too,  upon  the  front  corners  of  the  terrace,  were 
those  happy  reminders  of  the  glorious  Venetian  Re- 
public, her  invariable  twin  columns,  —  bearing  the 
Lion  of  St.  Mark  and  the  Goddess  of  Justice.  Colossal 
figures  of  Hercules  and  Csecus  guarded  the  main  ap- 
proach, and  an  oval  marble  fountain  of  three  basins 
cooled  the  dazzling  air  with  its  tinkling  waters. 

But  the  greatest,  loveliest,  and  most  memorable 
factor  of  this  whole  scene  I  have  purposely  left  un- 
touched until  the  end,  —  the  fairylike  palace  of  rose- 
and-white  marbles  facing  it  upon  the  left,  more  beauti- 
ful than  the  loggia,  the  clock-tower,  the  sculptured 


UDINE  AND  CIVIDALE  289 

monuments,  —  more  striking  than  all  of  them  to- 
gether. It  was  a  structure  of  dreamland,  an  edifice 
of  seafoam  thrown  up  by  the  waves  and  shining  rose- 
ate in  a  sunset  glow;  it  was  another  of  those  marvel- 
ous buildings  which  the  Italians  of  Gothic  times 
created  for  their  town  halls  and  ducal  palaces,  to 
make  us  wonder  to-day  at  so  much  loveliness  in  solid 
matter,  —  of  that  wonderful  company  which  includes 
the  Palazzi  Municipali  of  Perugia,  Siena,  Verona, 
and  Cremona,  —  of  the  unsurpassable  type  of  the 
Doge's  palace  at  Venice.  As  the  good  old  Udinese 
copied  their  clock-tower  from  St.  Mark's,  so  also, 
when  they  built  a  new  Municipio  in  1457,  they  re- 
produced on  a  smaller  scale  the  sublime  lines  and 
coloring  of  the  Palazzo  Ducale. 

This  exquisite  specimen  of  Gothic  work  is  more  a 
scintillating  jewel  than  a  majestic  monument,  —  a 
ruby  whose  gleaming  rays  illumine  joyously  the  whole 
piazza,  and  to  enjoy  a  sight  of  which  right  willingly 
I  would  send  a  friend  all  the  way  from  Venice.  It  is 
the  contrast  and  complement  of  that  other  palatial 
wonder,  the  Basilica  of  Vicenza.  All  around  its  first 
story  runs  the  splendid  Gothic  colonnade  of  the  doges, 
but  more  delicate  and  ethereal,  on  more  slender,  fluted 
columns,  with  elaborate  foliage  caps;  between  them 
extend  the  seel  ions  of  a  superb  Gothic  balustrade,  its 
railing  of  while  marble,  and  its  dainty  balusters  of 
alternate  serpentine  and  ( larrara.  Within  is  one  great 
loggia  covering  the  whole  ground  floor,  whose  pave- 
ment is  elevated  ;i  half-dozen  steps  above  1  lie  street, 
—  which  arc  arranged  scniicircularly  before  the  two 
central  arches.  The  approach  at  the  southern  end, 
where  the  ground  is  lower,  is  by  a  handsome  double 
stairway,  having  the  same  dainty  balustrade. 

Over   the  red-and-white  voussoirs  of   the  pointed 


290  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

arches  rise  the  sheer  marble  walls  to  the  lofty  cornice, 
in  alternate  horizontal  strata  of  rose  color  and  white, 
broken  only  by  the  few  but.  carefully  balanced  win- 
dows, three  on  each  side.  The  central  of  these  win- 
dows on  the  front  side  consists  of  a  colonnade  of  five 
trefoil  arches  on  marble  shafts,  and  has  one  of  the  most 
perfect  Gothic  ringhiera  balconies  existing,  supported 
on  voluptuously  modeled  corbels,  with  a  railing  con- 
taining panels  of  geometrical  open  tracery.  The  other 
windows  are  of  similar  graceful  construction,  with 
three  trefoil  arches  instead  of  five. 

Still  another  winsome  feature  is  the  marble  Ma- 
donna standing  at  the  southeastern  angle  over  the 
corner  column,  under  a  luxurious  Gothic  canopy 
covered  with  crockets,  finials,  and  spire,  holding  her 
Babe  in  one  hand  and  a  model  of  a  fortress  in  the  other, 
—  a  very  fine  early  work,  which  has  always  been 
especially  revered  by  the  Udinese. 

I  entered  the  wide,  darkened  loggia  by  the  front 
steps,  and  found  its  roof  upheld  by  rows  of  columns 
similar  to  those  of  the  facade,  supporting  rounded 
arches;  here  had  been  the  meeting-place  of  the  people 
for  hundreds  of  years,  —  and  a  number  of  groups  were 
at  this  moment  conversing  loudly  in  different  bays, 
with  a  continual  going  to  and  fro.  On  the  rear  wall  to 
the  right  I  found  the  famous  Madonna  of  Pordenone, 
so  dear  to  the  inhabitants,  —  a  frescoed  figure  of  truly 
wonderful  loveliness,  with  something  of  a  Raphael- 
esque  contour  to  her  rounded  cheeks,  and  a  softness 
of  well-modeled  flesh,  a  grace  of  posture,  a  sweetness 
of  expression,  quite  impossible  to  conceive  without 
beholding.  The  Virgin  with  her  Child  stands  before 
a  curtain,  which  just  permits  a  glimpse  to  the  rear  of 
a  distant  hill-town  on  its  rocky  crag,  backed  by  ser- 
rated mountains.    In  a  separate  compartment  just 


UDINE  AND   CIVIDALE  291 

below,  before  a  marble  pillar  in  a  different  landscape, 
three  ravishing  child-angels  are  making  music  with 
song  and  psaltery.  Restored  it  is,  of  course,  but  very 
skillfully,  in  the  original,  softly  bright,  harmonious 
colors,  broadly  massed.  Its  seraphic  beauty  lights  up 
the  whole  loggia,  and  no  one  who  has  seen  it  can  deny 
the  power  of  graceful,  pietistic  repose  to  its  author, 
nor  refuse  him  a  debt  of  gratitude.  Some  critics  — 
wrongly,  I  think  —  claim  that  the  painter  was  Gio- 
vanni da  Udine.  Pordenone  once  executed  another 
Madonna  for  this  piazza,  upon  the  wall  of  the  opposite 
loggia;  but  I  looked  for  it  in  vain,  and  only  discovered 
it  eventually  in  the  civic  museum. 

A  conflagration  in  187G  quite  gutted  the  upper  story 
of  the  Municipio,  so  that  the  fine,  heavy,  oak-beamed 
roof  which  I  now  saw  was  a  very  recent  reproduction 
of  the  original.  A  passage  arching  the  narrow  street 
in  the  rear  led  me  to  a  large  lofty  hall  in  the  annex; 
this  was  a  still  older  building,  that  has  always  served 
for  municipal  purposes,  containing  the  offices  of  vari- 
ous departments;  and  its  great  hall  has  been  for  count- 
less general  ions  the  principal  assembly  chamber  of 
the  city.  Around  its  walls  hung  many  canvases,  in 
several  rows,  including  a  large  number  of  unusual  size. 
None  of  them  were  very  noteworthy,  but  t lie  best  of 
the  Renaissance  works  were  a  Gathering  of  the  Manna 
by  Grassi,  the  Udinese,  a  Last  Supper  by  Amalteo, 
and  Saints  Agostinoand  Girolamo  by  Martini,  which 
Lanzi  calls  remarkable  for  its  power  of  coloring. 

I  found  here  a  functionary  willing  to  show  me  the 
upper  floor  of  t  lie  Municipio,  above  t  he  loggia,  and  we 
Ascended  to  it  by  a  marble  staircase  beside  the  pass- 
age. There  were  four  large  chambers,  with  fine  hard- 
wood floors  and  furniture,  and  hideous  arabesques 
covering  the  lofty  walls  and  ceilings,  the  results  of  the 


292  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

reconstruction;  they  contained  plenty  of  those  green 
baize  tables  which  Italian  officialdom  is  so  fond  of, 
and  ponderous  armchairs  arranged  formally  for  the 
sittings  of  councils  and  committees.  Upon  the  lower 
parts  of  tlu*  walls  were  a  few  old  canvases,  of  no 
importance;  of  which  the  most  noticeable  was  a 
Pomponio  Amalteo,  representing  Christ  appearing  to 
some  kneeling,  pompous  officials  in  very  sumptuous 
dress. 

After  this  I  left  the  piazza  for  the  Mercato  Vecchio, 
which  extends  from  its  northwestern  angle,  in  the  same 
direction,  along  the  base  of  the  hill,  —  rather  a  very 
broad  street  than  a  piazza  proper.  It  is  lined  with  old, 
four-storied,  stuccoed  buildings,  rising  upon  continu- 
ous colonnades,  having  shops  and  caffes  in  the  ground 
floors  and  faint  traces  of  bygone  frescoes  on  their 
facades.  One  block  to  the  west  of  it  I  came  to  the 
Mercato  Nuovo,  where  the  trade  of  produce  now  con- 
gregates, under  the  customary  canvas  roofs  and  um- 
brellas, —  a  smaller,  square-shaped  piazza,  quite 
crowded  by  the  merchants  and  buying  housewives. 
In  their  midst  rose  another  statue  of  the  Virgin,  an- 
other splashing  fountain,  and  at  the  farther  end  a 
strange  but  elegant,  old  well-head,  with  four  marble 
columns,  and  a  fifth  upon  their  summit.  Ah,  those 
countless,  charming,  picturesque  old  market-places  of 
Italy,  thronged  with  her  warm-hearted  people  and 
filled  with  the  products  of  their  genius,  —  how  the 
heart  goes  out  to  them,  of  one  who  has  lived  among 
them! 

At  the  western  end  of  this  piazza  stands  the  Church 
of  S.  Giacomo,  a  handsome,  Late-Renaissance  edifice 
entirely  sheathed  with  marble  and  highly  decorated 
with  sculpture;  and  upon  an  adjacent  wall  is  an  excel- 
lent old  fresco  of  the  Madonna.    The  Via  Canciani 


UDIXE  AND   CIVIDALE  293 

leads  thence  southward  to  the  Piazza  Venti  Setteni- 
bre;  and  I  followed  it  back  to  my  hotel. 

Upon  my  next  visit  to  the  central  piazza,  I  climbed 
the  hillside  to  the  castle.  The  entrance  to  the  grounds 
was  by  a  rusticated  stone  archway  with  Doric  half- 
columns,1  in  the  northeastern  angle  behind  the  God- 
dess of  Peace;  within  which  I  found  a  driveway  curv- 
ing up  the  slope  alongside  a  fascinating,  arcaded 
passage,  consisting  of  a  number  of  long  flights  of  steps. 
These  were  arched  over  by  masonry,  and  lined  upon  the 
left  by  a  series  of  delightful  Gothic  arcades,  consisting 
of  trefoil,  ogive  arches  in  stucco,  supported  by  marble 
columns  with  primitive  foliage  capitals.  The  steps 
were  worn  by  centuries  of  climbers;  and  my  thoughts 
reverted  to  all  the  myriads  of  visitors  that  had  mounted 
here  before  me  in  long  past  ages,  —  in  silken  doublet 
and  long-hose,  velvet  gown  and  feathered  cap,  and  all 
the  varying  gay  costumes  left  us  only  in  pictures. 
Ah,  what  pictures  must  not  those  old  arcades  have 
seen,  —  what  whisperings  of  love,  and  hatred,  and 
ambition,  what  pomp  of  proud  patricians,  and  misery 
of  poor  prisoners  going  to  their  doom! 

I  mount  ed  between  the  east  end  of  the  castle  and  the 
church,  and  on  the  farther,  northern,  side  discovered 
a  wide,  grass-grown  parade  covering  the  summit,  with 
the  true  facade  of  the  edifice  looking  down  upon  it; 
a  grand,  double,  circular  stairway  of  two  stories  led 
majestically  to  the  principal  portal,  in  the  i>iano 
nobUe.  The  custode,  who  dwelt  in  a  little  building  be- 
side the  church,  senl  his  wife  to  conduct  me  over  the 
palace,  and  she  admitted  me  through  a  small  doorway 
of  the  basement,  into  a  large  ball  where  doubtless  the 

1  Thu  finely  proportioned  structure,  with  its  marked  sen I  power. 

wai  probably  designed  l>y  Palladio  upon   his  viail  here  in    I ■">"><•.  during 
which  year  it  wai  erected.   Bui  there  ii  nothing  certain  about  it. 


294  PLAIN  TOWNS  OF   ITALY 

guards  once  lounged.  It  was  utterly  denuded  now,  as 
were  all  the  halls  and  chambers  of  the  immense  struc- 
ture. A  number  of  the  ground-floor  rooms  contained 
the  city's  collection  of  old  sculpture  and  bits  of  archi- 
tecture,-- looking  deserted  and  forlorn  amidst  the 
lofty,  echoing,  cold  walls. 

There  was  nothing  remarkable  here;  but  adjacent  lay 
the  entrance  to  the  interesting  old  dungeons,  hidden 
amongst  the  ancient  foundations  on  which  the  present 
edifice  was  raised.  I  crept  through  those  places 
of  terrible  memories  by  flickering  candlelight,  which 
revealed  countless  painful  scratchings  on  the  walls,  of 
phrases  and  fragments  of  verse,  —  groans  of  dying 
unfortunates  torn  from  them  by  their  agony,  of  which 
every  one  represented  unspeakable  sufferings  unto 
death.  It  was  entirely  dark  at  midday  in  those  horrible 
stone  boxes,  where  mortals  had  confined  each  other 
since  the  days  of  Rome,  and  where  the  Venetian  Gov- 
ernment  immured  its  political  opponents.  One  needs 
occasionally  to  descend  into  some  such  oubliettes  of 
past  times,  to  be  properly  grateful  for  living  to-day. 

AYe  ascended  to  the  great  entrance  hall  of  the  pal- 
ace, in  the  centre  of  the  "piano  nobile,  directly  above 
the  guard  hall  and  still  more  spacious;  the  principal 
portal  opened  from  it,  upon  the  top  landing  of  the 
grand  external  staircase.  I  looked  over  its  ponderous 
coffered  ceiling,  —  richly  gilded,  the  panels  adorned 
with  painted  tableaux,  —  and  its  lofty  walls  covered 
with  decadent  Renaissance  frescoes,  arranged  in  cu- 
rious large  scenes,  more  or  less  defaced,  —  imagining 
the  countless  brilliant  gatherings  which  they  had 
witnessed  under  the  Venetian  rule.  How  many  and 
many  a  stately  assembly  of  Friulan  patricians  had 
curtsied  here  in  laced  coat  and  periwig  under  the  Gov- 
ernor's eagle  eye,  -  -  in  what  an  outw  ard  splendor  of 


UDINE  AND  CIVIDALE  295 

music  and  ceremony,  with  what  an  inner  trembling 
at  the  remembrance  of  the  black  dungeons  yawning 
beneath  their  tripping  feet,  and  pulsating  with  the 
groans  of  dying  wretches  who  had  been  their  friends, 
their  relatives,  their  brothers.  The  rule  of  the  terrible 
Ten  was  omnipotent  here  as  in  Venice;  and  no  man 
knew  when  a  touch  upon  the  shoulder  might  take  him 
forever  from  human  ken. 

The  adjacent  suites  of  chambers,  in  the  western 
wing,  were  filled  now  with  the  city's  collection  of 
paintings:  several  rooms,  first,  containing  specimens 
of  the  old  Friulan  masters,  then  others  containing 
modern  works  left  by  recent  legacies.  They  had  been 
removed  here  but  a  few  weeks  ago  from  the  Palazzo 
Bartolini  bevond  the  Mercato  Vecchio,  —  which  still 
preserves  the  Municipal  Library.  It  was  not  a  large 
nor  an  impressive  collection;  but,  like  even  the  small- 
est museum  of  inexhaustible  Italy,  it  had  some  works 
of  such  merit  and  enticement  as  to  make  the  whole  an 
agreeable  memory. 

The  first  room  held  pictures  of  the  earliest  periods, 
both  before  and  just  after  the  institution  of  Venetian 
methods;  chief  and  most  pleasing  among  them  being 
the  two  masterpieces  of  Girolamo  da  Udine,  whose 
warm,  golden  tone  and  graceful,  well-modeled,  Bel- 
linesque  figures  were  a  striking  contrast  to  the  more 
primitive  -litl'  panels,  resembling  tapestries.  One  of 
the  i  wo  represented  S.  Domenico,  with  six  captivating 
girl-angels  making  melody,  outlined  against  a  sky  of 
enchanting  blueness,  in  a  glowing  harmony  of  colors; 

the  other  \\a>  Girolamo's  Coronation  of  the  Virgin, 
between  the  Magdalen  ami  John  the  Baptist,  —  a 
work  of  mosl  powerful  spacing,  effective  disposition, 
ami  clear  perspective,  with  figures  of  vigorous  mould- 
ing and  quiel  dignity.  The  Eternal  Father  is  portrayed 


296  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

as  seated  upon  a  simple  cloth-covered  form  before  a 
hanging  velvet  curtain,  behind  which  to  the  far  dis- 
tance  stretches  the  Plain  of  Friuli,  to  its  ca-stled  foot- 
hills and  craggy  Alps;  the  Madonna  kneels  at  his  right 
hand  upon  a  lower  step,  with  meek,  downcast  coun- 
tenance  and  folded  hands,  while  the  Almighty  places 
a  crown  upon  her  coif;  the  two  saints  stand  to  right 
and  left,  and  a  tiny,  chubby,  winged  cherub,  perched 
upon  the  lowest  step,  is  handling  meditatively  a  lute. 
The  wide  free  spaces,  the  warm,  dreamy  tone,  the 
strong,  simply-robed  figures,  the  broad,  rich  masses 
of  color,  all  conjoin  to  make  this  an  exceptional  work, 
and  overshadow  its  lack  of  expression. 

In  the  second  room  the  principal  object  was  Porde- 
none's  Madonna,  which  formerly  adorned  the  public 
loggia,  —  a  lovely  female  form,  gentle  and  winsome, 
of  his  usual  powerful  moulding  and  vivid  flesh-color. 
In  the  third  room  I  was  struck  by  a  piece  of  silk 
embroidery  surpassing  anything  in  that  line  I  had 
ever  seen,  —  an  extraordinary  curiosity  and  artistic 
chef  d'eeuvre  combined;  it  was  a  veritable  painting  in 
thread,  showing  a  pair  of  lions  couchant,  of  most  vivid 
lifelikeness  and  vigorous  grace.  Here  was  also  an  ex- 
traordinary modern  canvas,  that  seized  the  beholder 
with  its  tragic  expressiveness  like  a  breathless  vise:  it 
represented  a  lone  man  and  woman  upon  a  mountain- 
top,  clasping  each  other  with  agonized,  terror-stricken 
faces,  surrounded  by  the  advancing  flood,  beaten  by 
the  thundering  elements;  —  a  profound  accomplish- 
ment, executed  by  F.  Giuseppini,  who  died  in  1862. 
The  remaining  four  or  five  rooms  contained  indiffer- 
ent etchings,  woodcuts,  engravings,  and  ordinary 
modern  paintings.  The  view  from  the  windows  of  all 
of  them  was  impressive,  —  over  the  red-tiled  roofs 
and  campanili  of  the  city  below,  across  the  adjacent, 


UDINE  AND  CIVIDALE  297 

barren-looking  plain  with  its  glistening  river-beds,  to 
the  rounded  foothills  and  towering  mountains. 

On  the  following  day  I  set  out  from  the  central 
piazza  for  an  examination  of  the  quarter  east  of  the 
hill,  following  the  Via  Manin,  which  runs  easterly  from 
the  place's  southeastern  angle,  along  the  southern 
base  of  the  height.  It  is  a  short  street,  and  halfway 
upon  the  left  I  passed  a  delightful  Old  Renaissance 
palace  covered  with  a  reddish-brown  stucco;  its  far- 
projecting  wooden  roof  shadowed  a  fine  colonnaded 
window  of  five  arches,  with  marble  shafts,  and  double 
marble  balconies  of  handsome  design;  while  the  plas- 
ter held  inset  below  it  an  ancient  relief  of  the  Madonna, 
Child,  and  putti.  The  way  debouched  into  a  bay  at 
the  southern  angle  of  the  vast  Piazza  d'  Armi,  which 
I  saw  stretching  a  third  of  a  mile  before  me  to  the 
northwest,  adorned  in  the  centre  with  a  large  oval 
grove  of  trees,  and  holding  a  second,  triangular  grove 
in  its  far  apex.  It  reminded  me  of  Padua's  Prato  della 
Valle,  and  shimmered  with  the  same  fierce  sunniness. 

I  crossed  it,  however,  to  the  curious  Church  of  the 
Beata  Vergine  delle  Grazie  on  the  eastern  side,  enjoy- 
ing in  passing  the  unusual  beauty  of  the  trees,  —  horse- 
chestnuts,  and  planes  of  magnificent  dimensions,  one 
of  the  latter  being  fully  six  feet  in  diameter.  The 
church  rose  at  the  top  of  an  imposing  flight  of  steps, 
with  a  classical  facade  of  four  mammoth  Corinthian 
stucco  columns.  Adjacent  on  the  right  were  some 
charming  old  cloisters,  of  Gothic  arches  sustained  by 
primitive  columns,  with  bits  of  early  frescoing  in  the 
lunettes,  and  shapely  palms  of  several  species  embel- 
lishing I  lie  court . 

The  interior  of  the  edifice  proved  to  be  one  glitter- 
ing mass  of  modern  bright  decoration,  carried  to  the 
extreme,        the  ceiling  covered   with  gay-hued   fres- 


298  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF   ITALY 

coes,  the  walls  with  gilding,  plaster  statues,  painted 
wooden  reliefs,  and  other  frescoes,  of  appalling  poor- 
ness and  number.  It  was  another  "miracle-working" 
church,  -  which  accounted  for  all  these  riches,  that 
the  priests  had  reaped  from  the  credulous  pilgrims. 
Two  rooms,  on  the  right  and  left  immediately  after 
entering,  were  hung  to  the  ceiling,  upon  their  four 
walls,  with  objects  of  every  sort  supposed  to  have 
been  given  by  thankful,  cured  suppliants,  —  crutches, 
wooden  limbs,  wooden  heads,  frames  containing 
chromos,  harrowing  pictures  of  sick-beds,  crude  repre- 
sentations of  the  miracles  performed,  —  thousands  of 
them,  and  doubtless  in  great  part  true  witnesses; 
Lourdes  shows  us  what  implicit  faith  will  do.  A  con- 
tinuous stream  of  peasants  was  coming  and  going, 
with  awed  faces,  many  of  them  purchasing  mementoes 
and  trinkets  for  deposit  from  the  vendors  upon  the 
steps.  And  the  object  of  all  this  worship  and  belief 
was  but  an  old  canvas  painted  with  a  figure  of  the 
Madonna,  hidden  behind  an  embroidered  cloth  over 
the  altar  in  the  left  chapel. 

At  the  southern  end  of  the  Piazza  d'  Armi  stands 
the  Tribunale,  or  court-house,  and  upon  its  south  side, 
facing  westward  over  a  little  park  running  southeast- 
erly from  the  end  of  the  Via  Manin,  the  huge  palace 
of  the  Archbishop.1  This  was  the  building  to  which 
I  now  bent  my  steps,  to  see  the  frescoes  of  Giovanni 
Battista  Tiepolo  and  Giovanni  da  Udine,  decorating 
its  piano  nobile.  The  Bishop  was  luckily  away  in  the 
mountains,  and  a  sole  caretaker  left  in  charge,  who 

1  This  small  but  pleasant  Giardino  Pubblko,  with  its  groves  of  cypresses, 
preserves  in  its  knolls  some  fragments  of  the  embankment  of  the  earliest 
eastern  city-wall,  with  the  latter's  moat  —  the  Roggia  Canal  —  still  flow- 
ing Bofl  1  y  by.  The  palace  was  a  late  cinquecento  erection  of  the  Archbishops 
—  mi  longer  Patriarchs  and  rulers,  owing  to  the  Venetian  dominion;  in  it 
at  different  times  stayed  Pope  Pius  VI,  Napoleon  I,  and  Victor  Emmanuel. 


UDIXE  AND  CIVIDALE  299 

conducted  me  up  the  grand  winding  staircase  of  six 
flights,  with  pardonable  pride.  Upon  the  ceiling  of  its 
well  was  one  of  Tiepolo's  characteristic  circular  fres- 
coes, this  time  representing  the  Fall  of  the  Angels,  — 
a  work  of  real  power,  in  which  the  falling,  whirling 
forms  seemed  to  rush  downward  before  the  eyes. 

The  grand  suite  was  upon  the  third-story  front,  as 
often  in  Friuli,  commencing  with  a  large  throne-room 
opening  from  the  stairway,  which  was  adorned  with 
portraits  of  all  the  Bishops  of  Udine,  and  the  Patriarchs 
of  Aquileia  before  them,  back  to  the  first  tenant  of  the 
office.  The  ceiling-painting  was  modern.   But  the  ad- 
joining so-called  gallery,  or  reception-room,  contained 
six  paintings  by  Tiepolo:  a  "tondo"  upon  the  ceiling, 
showing  the  Sacrifice  of  Isaac,  and  five  scenes  from 
the  same  story  upon  the  walls,  of  which  two  were  in 
brown   monochrome.     The  largest  and  best  picture 
was  Jacob  appearing  to  Rachel  and  her  sister,  though 
the  figures  of  the  Sacrifice  were  the  better  moulded, 
and  its  angel,  an  alluring  apparition.    The  tangibility 
was  in  general  rather  poor,  and  the  colors  too  light,  but 
the  composition  was  good  and  the  dramatic  action 
and  expression  surprisingly  so.  The  second  chamber, 
or  Sala  Etossa,  contained  Tiepolo's  remaining  labors, — 
a  large  Judgment  of  Solomon  upon  the  centre  of  the 
ceiling,  beautifully  colored,  well  grouped  and  posed, 
but  not  individually  graceful  nor  realistic,       and  four 
figures  of  prophets  in  the  corners. 

The  third  room,  or  state  bedchamber,  was  diarac- 
teristically  adorned  by  Giovanni  da  Udipe,  with  five 
of  his  customary  little  panels,  in  the  centre  and  corners 
of  the  ceiling,  which  often  make  one  feel  that  he 
musl  have  distrusted  hi-  power  to  draw  large  figures. 
They  represented  scenesfrom  the  life  of  Christ,  -  the 
giving  of  the  k<y>  t«>  Peter  (central),  Hh-  multiplication 


300  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF   ITALY 

of  tlit>  loaves  and  fishes  (best  of  the  lot,  with  a  noble 
form  of  the  Saviour),  the  meeting  with  the  Centurion, 
Jesus  preaching  from  a  boat  in  the  lake,  and  Judas 
receiving  the  betrayal  money.  They  were  second-class 
work,  showing  clearly  that  little  pains  had  been  taken. 
I  was  more  interested  in  the  fourth  chamber,  —  a 
fine  large  library,  lined  with  handsome  cases  and  count- 
less old  tomes,  with  a  delicate  oak  balustrade  around 
the  second  story,  surmounted  by  graceful  wood-carved 
yutti,  and  a  bright  modern  ceiling-painting.  It  was 
an  interesting  example  of  the  delightful  old  libraries 
hidden  in  private  palaces  all  over  Italy:  — 

For  Italy  's  the  whole  earth's  treasury,  piled  — 
With  coins  of  scholars'  fancy,  which,  being  rung 
On  workday  counter,  still  sound  silver-proof: 
In  short,  with  all  the  dreams  of  dreamers  young.1 

The  most  pleasing  sight  of  all  came  last,  in  the 
private  chapel  off  the  throne-room,  whose  pala  con- 
sisted of  a  delectable  Madonna  by  Palma  Giovane,  in 
partial  chiaroscuro,  her  child  standing  upon  a  little 
cloud  upheld  by  a  baby-angel;  —  a  splendidly  modeled 
work,  with  rich,  soft,  flesh-portrayal,  of  exceeding  grace 
and  quiet  feeling.  When  I  went  down  I  noticed  the 
courtyard  in  the  rear,  —  a  large  space  surrounded  by 
a  stately  stone  wall  crowned  with  many  marble 
statues,  and  holding  in  its  centre  a  lovely  Old  Renais- 
sance well-top.  The  building  itself  was  of  no  interest 
externally,  the  huge  f  agade  being  of  plainest,  unadorned 
stucco.  I  sat  down  for  a  while  in  the  Public  Garden  be- 
fore it,  —  a  pretty,  cooling  spot,  consisting  of  varied, 
tree-clad  knolls  and  dells,  through  which  flowed  the 
shining  stripof  the  Roggia  Canal.2   On  its  western  side 

1  Mrs.  Browning,  Casa  Guidi  Windows. 

-  Southward  the  f,';inlen  merges  into  the  broad  Via  Gorgni,  which, 
occupying  lli"  site  of  the  earliest  walls,  and  still  accompanied  by  the  moat 
tli<-  Roggia  ,  bends  round  in  a  wide  curve  to  the  Piazza  Garibaldi  in  the 
■outhwest. 


UDINE  AND  CIVIDALE  301 

rose  amongst  shady  groves  the  irregular  old  brick  mass 
of  the  Prefettura.  One  block  west  of  this  again,  on  the 
east  side  of  the  Via  Posta,  a  little  south  of  the  Duomo, 
I  found,  later  on,  a  private  palace  even  more  interest- 
ing to  me  than  the  Arcivescovado. 

This  was  the  Palazzo  Tinghi,  upon  which  Pordenone 
once  lavished  his  genius,  both  inside  and  out;  the  paint- 
ings are  unusually  preserved,  and,  though  unknown  to 
the  guidebooks,  constitute  one  of  Udine's  principal 
sights.  The  facade  was  entirely  painted  by  that  great 
master,  about  lo^T;  and  sufficient  remains  to  show  us, 
for  once,  how  dazzling  the  effect  of  such  work  must 
have  been.  It  extends  over  all  the  abundant  wall- 
spaces,  -  -  between  the  windows,  over  the  arcade,  as 
courses  between  the  stories,  and  as  a  frieze  beneath 
the  eaves;  the  different  backgrounds  being  tinted  in 
delightful  soft  monochromes  of  light  brown,  ochre, 
reddish-brown,  white,  and  golden  brown,  —  upon  which 
appear  happily  contrasted  life-size  figures  of  Greek 
gods  and  goddesses,  mythological  heroes,  and  antique 
groupings,  each  in  a  single  color  harmonious  with  its 
setting,  -  white  forms  on  ochre,  brown  on  white.  In 
the  frieze,  prettiest  of  all,  a  series  of  charming  white 
figures  in  ancient  costume  extends  the  whole  width  of 
the  bouse, engaged  in  making  sacrifice  upon  altars,  and 
other  pursuits,  all  exquisitely  outlined  against  a  back- 
ground of  golden  brown.  Between  the  third-floor  win- 
dows are  four  panels  of  similar  scenes,  whose  white- 
robed  participants  shine  like  camco-cnts  against 
gleaming  gems,  —  of  lavender  glow,  of  orange-brown, 

of  rose-red,  and  emerald-green.  Judged  by  this  lin- 
gering effect,  the  whole  classic  composition  nmsthave 
coruscated  in  its  early  years  like  a  transplanted  rain- 
bow. 

As  for  the  inside  paintings,  I  was  informed  that  the 


302  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

chambers  of  the  piano  nobUe  embellished  by  Porde- 
Done  had  been  during  the  centuries  entirely  built  over, 
—  all  but  one  room,  in  the  very  centre,  which  was  now 
used  by  a  certain  dentist,  Doctor Clanfero.  Ileprovcd 
to  be  a  most  pleasant  man,  and  made  me  free  of  the 
apartment.  Here  I  had  the  pleasure  of  beholding  apri- 
\  ate  salon  decorated  by  a  great  master,  —  a  rare  treat, 
worth  many  of  the  best  canvases.  It  was  a  little  square 
room,  with  the  lower  parts  of  the  walls  covered  by 
three  elaborate  landscapes  and  an  Annunciation,  prob- 
ably from  other  hands;  but  the  magnificent  frieze  was 
indubitably  by  Pordenone,  —  a  brilliant,  superbly  sus- 
tained series  of  frolicking  putli,  intertwined  with  vines 
and  grotesques,  the  design  of  perfect  grace  and  regu- 
larity, the  flowers  and  leaves  exquisitely  drawn,  the 
lovely,  fresh  cherubs  delightful  beyond  words.  Through 
the  twining  verdure  ran  a  multitude  of  unnatural 
but  vividly  realistic  beasts  and  birds,  with  long  necks 
and  human  lineaments,  ugly  and  fascinating.  By  the 
same  master  were  the  two  sphinxes  at  the  sides  of  the 
landscape  on  the  right  wall,  —  which  had  an  uncanny 
likeness  to  the  side  look  of  his  feminine  saints,  —  and 
the  two  similar  weird  beasts  above  them,  with  male 
heads.  Never  had  I  seen  anything  quite  equal,  in  its 
like,  to  this  grotesque  but  joyous  and  bewitching  fan- 
tasy. Remembering  Pordenone's  paysage  at  his  birth- 
place, these  landscapes  were  possibly  also  his  work, 
with  their  pleasing  aggregation  of  lakes  and  woods  and 
mountains,  overlooked  by  enchanted  castles,  peopled 
by  uncouth  rustics  gamboling  in  the  foreground. 

I  discovered  an  interesting  short  walk  through  the 
southern  portion  of  the  city,  starting  down  from 
Piazza  Venti  Settembre  to  Piazza  Garibaldi,  —  so 
called  after  the  bronze  statue  of  the  Liberator  occupy- 
ing its  centre,  with  a  drawn  sword  under  his  folded 


UDIXE   AND  CIVIDALE  303 

arm.  Before  this  was  the  house  from  which  the  "altis- 
simo  eroe"  spoke  to  the  Udinese,  on  March  1,  1867, 
those  "  words  of  patriotism  and  glory  "  which  the  tablet 
records;  behind  it  was  the  large  Renaissance  building 
of  the  Institute  of  Technology,  having  a  central,  higher 
pavilion  faced  with  eight  two-storied  half-columns 
and  pilasters.  Round  the  corner  to  the  southwest  I 
found  a  very  prepossessing,  modern  Renaissance, 
red-brick  house,  with  handsome  marble  windows  and 
loggia,  and  a  curious  frieze  of  painted  festoons. 

"The  Via  Gorgni  ran  thence  to  the  east,  which  I  fol- 
lowed to  the  church  and  extensive  cloisters  of  S. 
Spirito.  The  former  was  nothing;  but  the  latter,  now 
secularized  and  occupied  by  tenants,  were  bounded 
by  tall  double  colonnades,  —  the  lower  of  flat  arches, 
the  upper  of  stucco  pillars  supporting  a  wooden,  tiled 
roof,  —  altogether  very  quaint  and  picturesque.  A 
block  to  the  north  of  this,  next  the  huge  structure  of 
the  Ospedale  Civile  (it  is  always  a  wonder,  what  great 
and  well-equipped  hospitals  these  small  Italian  cities 
have),  I  visited  the  church  of  the  Franciscans,  —  of  no 
account  externally,  but  endowed  with  a  resplendent 
high-altar  piece  by  Pellegrino  da  S.  Daniele.  It  was  a 
Madonna  standing  upon  clouds,  which  were  upheld 
by  various  saints,  a  very  darkly  toned  work,  with 
finely  moulded  flesh  of  a  rich  reddish  tinge.  Over 
another  altar  was  a  canvas  by  Amalteo. 

Another  and  last  walk  took  me  into  the  northern 
quarter,  starting  from  the  exceptionally  wide  Via 
Zanoni,  a  block  west  of  the  Mereato  Nuovo, — 
which  represents  a  section  of  the  original  western  city- 
wall.  Here  also,  the  old  moat  Still  flows  along  its  side, 
an  arm  of  the  Roggia,  laving  the  bases  of  the 
dwellings  in  Venetian  style;  and  to  reach  the  street 
each  house  has  a  little  bridge  thrown  over  the  water. 


304  PLAIN-TOWNS   OF   ITALY 

A  number  of  housewives,  as  I  gazed,  were  kneeling  upon 
the  sidewalk  washing  the  family  linen  before  their 
own  doors;  in  other  sections  I  had  seen  a  similar  use 
of  the  canal  waters  at  the  backs  of  the  dwellings. 
Near  by,  on  the  street  leading  north  from  the  Mer- 
cato  Nuovo,  I  found  the  little  Church  of  S.  Pietro 
Mart  in',  containing  an  elegant  example  of  Tiepolo's 
peculiar  genius  as  a  ceiling  painter,  —  a  large  fresco 
of  the  Madonna  in  glory,  with  Saints  Francis  and 
( Catherine  and  a  number  of  lovely  angels,  all  suspended 
upon  clouds  above  a  templed  city,  in  which  S.  An- 
tonio is  visible  dispensing  alms.  This  church  has  also 
a  living  wonder,  -  the  only  Italian  sacristan  who 
refuses  tips,  and  yet  shows  his  building  courteously. 
The  painting  by  Carpaccio  which  used  to  be  here  I 
could  obtain  no  trace  of. 

This  street  curves  round  to  the  north  end  of  the 
Mercato  Vecchio,  at  the  northwest  base  of  the  castle 
hill,  looming  steeply  overhead,  —  near  the  so-called 
Casa  di  Risparmio,  and  several  other  very  old  build- 
ings with  wide-projecting  wooden  eaves,  showing  re- 
mains of  extensive  frescoing.  On  one  of  them  linger 
still  three  clear  heroic  figures,  of  gods  or  saints  (about 
the  same  to  the  polytheistic  lower  classes),  possessed 
of  considerable  tactile  value  and  well  proportioned, 
with  flesh  of  that  usual,  queer,  reddish-brown  tinge.  At 
the  very  end  of  the  street,  in  the  shadow  of  the  castle, 
I  came  to  that  Palazzo  Bartolini  wdiich  contained  the 
library,  and,  formerly,  the  art  collection;  upon  looking 
it  over,  the  pleasant  directors  of  the  institution  showed 
me  a  magnificent  canvas  of  Palma  Giovane  which  had 
not  yet  been  transferred. 

It  was  a  very  large  wrork,  perhaps  twelve  feet  by 
six.  representing  St.  Mark  with  the  standard  of  Udine 
before  the  Virgin  with  her  Child,  an  elderly  saint  in 


UDIXE  AND   CIVIDALE  305 

priest's  cassock,  and  a  number  of  very  winsome  an- 
gels, while  to  the  right  through  a  window  was  visible 
in  the  distance  the  castle  hill,  with  the  loggia  and 
clock-tower  at  its  foot;  —  a  grand  composition,  of  the 
first  rank,  with  perfectly  modeled  figures  of  high  grace 
and  expressiveness,  in  a  dark  and  hazy  atmosphere 
that  lent  enchantment,  sparkled  with  golden  lights 
and  romantic  feeling,  and  softened  the  glow  of  the 
sumptuous  hues.  —  By  the  time  this  is  read,  it  will 
doubtless  have  been  hung  in  the  castle. 

From  this  point  the  prominent  Via  Gemona  runs 
northward  to  the  gate  of  the  same  name  in  the  centre 
of  the  northern  city  wall.  Following  it,  I  came  soon 
to  a  small  piazza  dominated  on  the  left  by  the  large 
Palazzo  Caiselli,  inhabited  for  many  generations  by 
one  of  Udine's  chief  families;  its  facade  was  another 
example  of  how  strangely  imposing  the  old  Italian 
palaces  can  be,  though  having  but  simple  stuccoed 
walls  and  unadorned  windows.  It  comes,  I  believe, 
from  the  careful  balancing  of  the  openings,  their  just 
proportion  to  the  solid,  and  the  invariable  heavy  cor- 
nice full  of  dignity.  This  one  contains  some  works  of 
Tiepolo  and  a  Tintoretto  of  repute;  but  the  noble  pro- 
prietor was  away  in  the  mountains,  and  I  could  not 
be  admitted  for  lack  of  his  permission. 

A  little  beyond,  on  the  east  side,  loomed  up  the 
majestic  /><i/<rr.<>  of  the  Banca  d'  Italia,  a  splendid 
Renaissance  structure,  with  long-and-short  rustica- 
work  ;it  the  angles,  rusticated  half-columns  along  the 
first  story,  and  ( 'orintliian  half-Columns  above;  though 
of  two  divisions  only,  its  enormous  eaves  projected 
;il  ;i  heighl  equal  to  half  a  dozen  of  our  modern 
puny  floors.  The  stately,  columned  entrance-hall, 
with  its  impressive  stairway,  framed  ;i  vista  of  the 
luxuriant  garden  in  I  he  rear,   whose  marble  statues 


806  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

gleamed  against  masses  of  tangled  verdure,  percolated 
by  a  silver  si  ream  of  flowing  water. 

Finally,  I  reached,  upon  the  same  side,  the  interest- 
ing, quaint,  little  house  once  inhabited  and  decorated 
by  Giovanni  da  Udine,  and  still  cherished  for  his  sake 
by  the  faithful  people,  —  as  a  tablet  witnessed.  Its 
ground  story  consisted  of  the  usual  arcade,  but  on 
the  upper  story  the  master  had  expended  his  fertile 
fancy  in  exceptional  lines:  at  the  sides  of  the  one  real 
window  were  painted  false  ones,  —  of  circular  shape, 
representing  medieval  glass  in  small  round  panes,  — 
and  six  pretty  painted  panels  with  classic  mouldings, 
of  which  one  contained  a  most  engaging  little  relief 
of  the  Madonna  and  Child.  The  view  which  Giovanni 
enjoyed  from  this  residence  was  surprisingly  pleasant: 
the  long  straight  street  stretched  on  to  the  distant 
gateway,  paralleled  on  the  right  by  a  splashing  stream, 
that  washed  the  old  house-fronts  and  turned  a  heavy 
mill-wheel;  and  far  above  the  arched  gate  loomed  the 
dark  flanks  of  the  wooded  Alps  near  at  hand, wafting 
fresh  breaths  of  the  free,  pine-scented  breezes  from 
their  alluring  summits. 

Amidst  those  very  hills,  sheltered  in  the  noble  val- 
ley of  the  Tagliamento  near  its  entrance  upon  the 
plain,  nestle  the  two  picturesque  old  towns  of  Gemona 
and  Venzone;  which  contain  various  pictures  of  the 
early  Friulan  masters,  well  worth  visiting  to  any  lover 
of  the  art.  S.  Daniele  also,  in  the  foothills  to  the  north- 
west, holds  in  its  Cathedral  a  fine  altar-piece  of  Por- 
denone,  representing  the  Trinity,  and  in  its  Church 
of  S.  Antonio,  that  magnificent  series  of  frescoes  which 
have  given  Pellegrino  his  chief  title  to  fame.  I  did  not 
upon  this  occasion  visit  either  of  these  places,  for  they 
are  strictly  hill-towns,  and  my  researches  were  con- 
fined to  the  Italian  plain.   Nor  did  I  for  the  same  rea- 


UDINE   AND   CIVIDALE  307 

son  go  to  Grado  or  Aquileia,  for  those  are  practically 
sea-towns,  and  part  of  Austrian  territory.  But  no  un- 
confined  traveler  should  omit  the  sight  of  their  most 
interesting  relics,  —  their  wonderful  Romanesque  ca- 
thedrals of  countless  age,  their  remains  of  Roman 
temples,  baths,  and  palaces,  their  ancient  mosaics, 
sculptures,  monuments,  glassware,  metal-ware,  cotta- 
ware,  jewels,  and  artistic  objects  of  every  class,  their 
delightful  medieval  frescoes  and  carvings,  and  their 
Renaissance  paintings  and  chisel-work,  including  the 
beautiful  pala  by  Pellegrino. 

As  for  the  latter  artist,  a  journey  to  S.  Daniele  is 
not  necessary  to  become  thoroughly  acquainted  with 
his  genius  and  personality;  that  can  be  accomplished 
through  his  works  in  Udine,  combined  with  those  in 
the  most  important  of  all  the  neighboring  Italian 
places,  —  Cividale.  To  Cividale  then  I  went,  when  I 
had  finished  my  walks  in  the  city;  but  not  for  Pelle- 
grino alone,  —  far  from  it.  Cividale  has  many  other 
important  interests;  its  historical  buildings  and  re- 
mains date  from  all  four  periods:  from  the  days  of  the 
Roman  Forum  Julii,  the  fortified  gateway  of  the  Alps; 
from  those  of  the  powerful  Lombard  capital,  under 
Gisulf  and  his  successors;  from  those  of  the  patri- 
archate, under  the  later  dukes  and  counts,  and  under 
the  sovereign  sway  of  the  archbishops;  and  from  those 
of  the  Vend  ian  dominion,  with  its  edifices  and  artistic 
treasures  of  the  Renaissance.  Cividale  especially  con- 
tains many  rare  relies  of  the  Lombard  and  Frankish 
period,  probably  beyond  those  of  any  oilier  place, 
and,  above  all,  the  extraordinary  Lombard  Chapel  of 
S.  Peltmdis,  which  is  one  of  the  greatest  memorials 

of  that  race.1 

1  ( iisulf  placed  Ins  teal  of  power  at  Cividale  in  568,  !m<i  ruled  there  very 
ably  until  m  l.  when  he  waa  slain,  together  with  must  <>f  his  chieftain*,  in 


308  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Tin'  little  city,  nowadays  possessed  of  but  ten  thou- 
sand  inhabitants,  has  a  peculiarly  interesting  situation 
at  tin'  very  foot  of  the  wall  of  the  Julian  Alps, — the 
most  oriental  city  of  Italy,  at  the  very  beginning  (or 
end)  of  its  vast  northern  plain.  It  lies  almost  directly 
east  of  Udine,  about  ten  miles  distant,  at  the  mouth 
of  the  defile  of  the  Natison  River. 

I  started  out  early  one  morning  by  taking  the  tram 
from  the  central  piazza  of  Udine  down  the  long  main 
street  to  the  Porta  Aquileia,  —  stopping  off  shortly 
before  reaching  the  battlemented,  towered  gate  to 
examine  the  Church  of  S.  Pietro  which  was  passed; 
for  it  contained  the  final  specimen  of  Pellegrino  in  the 
city.  Then  I  took  a  local  train  of  aged  little  cars  at  the 
station,  and  rattled  unevenly  over  the  plain,  across 
the  glistening  stony  beds  of  the  Torre  and  the  Matina, 
to  the  foot  of  the  advancing  mountains.  Cividale 
Station  proved  to  be  a  half-mile  from  the  centre  of  the 
town,  and  a  kind  priest  showed  me  the  way  to  the 
latter  through  the  winding  narrow  streets.  The  central 
piazza  was  adorned  with  a  fountain  surmounted  by  a 
statue  of  a  female  armed  with  a  Roman  cuirass,  and 
was  surrounded  by  arcaded  houses  and  market-stalls. 

heroically  resisting  the  attack  of  the  fierce  Avars  upon  the  city.  In  737, 
under  the  reign  of  Duke  Pemmone,  Calisto  the  Patriarch  effected  a  coup- 
de-maiti:  being  no  longer  able,  like  his  predecessors,  to  reside  in  Aquileia 
on  account  of  the  harassing  attacks  of  the  Byzantines,  he  had  shortly 
before  removed  to  the  Castle  of  Cormons,  which  proved  altogether  too 
Bmall  for  his  state;  taking  advantage  of  a  temporary  absence  of  the  Duke 
from  Cividale,  he  suddenly  descended  upon  the  city,  forcibly  ejected  the 
Bishop  Amatore  from  the  vescovado,  and  made  himself  at  home.  Nor  did 
the  Duke  d  ire  to  interfere  on  his  return,  —  when  Calisto  had  already  com- 
menced  tin-  erection  of  the  grand  church  and  the  Baptistery  of  S.  Gio- 
vanni, in  commemoration  of  his  exploit.  Thus  strangely  was  installed  the 
Patriarchate  at  Cividale;  which  took  up  the  reins  of  temporal  government 
when  they  dropped  from  the  hands  of  the  later  Prankish  Counts,  and 
continued  t"  hold  sway  there  until  the  removal  to  Udine  in  the  latter  part 
of  the  thirteenth  century. 


UDIXE   AND   CIVIDALE  309 

One  of  the  houses  was  of  fair  Gothic  design,  with 
pointed  stone  arches  and  painted  panels  above  them. 
The  place  appeared  to  have  died  long,  long  ago; 
hardly  a  living  being  was  in  sight,  and  those  that  were, 
were  aged  women  drawing  water.  The  piazza  lay  a 
number  of  blocks  west  of  the  river,  which  ran  to  the 
south;  immediately  on  the  east  I  came  to  another 
open  space,  fronted  by  the  Municipio  on  the  right  and 
the  Duomo  and  Arcivescovado  on  the  left. 

The  Palazzo  Municipale  was  a  little  building  of 
red-and-white  marble,  with  the  usual  ground-floor 
loggia,  built  of  Gothic  arches  and  adorned  with 
plaques  to  the  memory  of  Garibaldi  and  Victor  Em- 
manuel; and  it  had  a  curious  outside  stairway  to  the 
upper  floor.  Beyond  it  stretched  a  row  of  very  old 
dwellings  of  a  picturesque  reddish-brown  color.  The 
Cathedral '  was  a  huge  edifice  of  stuccoed  walls,  recon- 
structed in  the  quattrocento,  with  a  stone  f  agade,  of  mixed 
styles,  completed  by  Pietro  Lombardo  about  15(>2;  — 
the  lower  part,  with  its  three  arched  doorways,  being 
Gothic  in  type,  while  the  upper  contained  a  central, 
Renaissance  window  of  three  lights,  and  a  rococo 
gable.  Beside  it  on  the  right  rose  a  short  and  very 
heavy  campanile,  of  stone  and  composite,  having  a 
clock-face  and  the  usual  open  belfry.  The  Bishop's 
Palace  was  adjacent  on  the  church's  left  rear,  fronting 
the  northern  end  of  the  piazza  with  a  large  facade  of 
Late-Renaissance  design;  it  rose  upon  a  stout  arcade, 
bearing  imbedded  in  its  upper  plaster  the  remains  of  a 
relief  of  tin'  Venetian  Lion,  and  a  very  old  and  curious 
stone  Madonna. 

1  The  earlier  church  was  the  one  commenced  byCalixtua  in  7:i~;  be- 
hind it  li«'  buill  his  huge  and  famous  palace,  now  vanished,  which  contained 

eighty  room-,  and  ipacioUfl  balls,  magnificently  decorated  with  mosaics 

and  marbles. 


310  PLAIN  TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

This  place  was  more  dead  than  the  other.  The 
Duomo  was  locked  up,  the  sacristan  gone  to  Udine; 
and  I  had  a  long  task  finding  a  living  person  with  one 
of  its  keys.  When  I  finally  entered,  I  found  the  in- 
terior very  spacious  and  handsome,  —  three  mighty 
stone  columns  on  each  side,  with  Romanesque  cap- 
itals, dividing  the  lofty,  round-arched  nave  from  the 
slightly  lower  aisles  with  their  Gothic  vaulting,  the 
pavements  being  of  gray-and- white  marbles,  the  walls 
of  stucco  with  gray  stone  trimmings.  In  the  first  bay 
of  the  right  aisle  stood  one  of  the  most  interesting 
Ivombard  relics,  the  ancient  Baptistery  of  Calixtus  (or 
Calisto),-  -the  very  font  which  he  had  constructed 
for  his  new  church,  upon  his  arrival  in  737. 

It  was  a  small,  octagonal,  marble  construction,  of 
eight  slight  columns  rising  upon  heavy  vertical  slabs, 
upholding  solid  arches  cut  from  other  slabs,  with  a 
flat  roof,  and  no  cornice,  —  all  materials  from  some 
Roman  temple,  thus  refitted  together  by  the  Lom- 
bards to  make  a  covered  font  for  immersion.  The 
Corinthian  capitals  of  the  columns  were  unusually 
rich,  having  very  prominent  drooping  leaves.  The 
top  slabs,  of  the  arches,  were  cut  with  various  long 
Latin  inscriptions  and  figures;  the  bottom  ones  were 
engraved  with  divers  designs,  two  being  of  Roman 
workmanship  and  four  others  of  Lombard.  These  last 
four  pieces,  "executed  in  relief  by  lowering  the  surface 
of  the  stone  —  within  which  the  details  are  indicated 
by  furrows  dug  out,"1  have  long  excited  interest 
among  antiquarians  for  their  exceptional  gracfe  of 
drawing  and  excellence  of  execution,  —  considering 
that  period,  when  reliefs  were  generally  so  rude;  the 
t  wo  front  slabs  have  been  removed  for  preservation  to 
the  city  museum,  and  a  later  font  installed  within,  of 

1  Perkins,  Italian  Sculptors. 


UDIXE   AND   CIVIDALE  311 

Renaissance  form.  The  Lombard  reliefs  stiil  remain- 
ing on  the  structure  consist  of  the  emblems  of  the 
Evangelists,  and  fanciful  figures,  —  somewhat  crude 
compared  with  modern  work,  but  extraordinary  for 
the  eighth  century. 

Over  the  central  portal  of  the  church  stood  the  gilded 
equestrian  statue  to  Marc,  di  Manzano,  companion 
to  that  of  Udine's  Cathedral,  which  Venice  erected  in 
the  early  seicento;  below  it  was  the  Renaissance  tomb 
of  Nicolo  Donato  (1497),  surmounted  by  statues  of 
the  Virgin  and  two  saints.  The  aisles  did  not  have  the 
customary  chapels,  but  altars  affixed  directly  to  the 
walls.  Over  the  first  altar  to  the  left  hung  a  fine 
Late-Renaissance  canvas,  by  Pietro  Meri,  of  1671, 
—  S.  Giacomo,  with  Saints  Stephen  and  Lorenzo  at  his 
sides;  much  like  the  Bassano  work  in  its  dark  flesh 
and  dusky  atmosphere,  and  full  of  charming  grace. 
The  next  altar  held  a  specimen  of  Sebastiano  Seccante, 
chief  fellow-artist  of  Amalteo  (1537)  —  another  group 
of  three  saints  (Joseph,  Roch,  and  Sebastian)  before  a 
ruined  Doric  temple;  a  work  of  warm  tone,  mystical 
atmosphere,  and  grace  of  composition  though  not  of 
figure.  St.  Joseph  supports afascinating  Child, stretch- 
ing out  his  little  fingers  in  blessing.  Adjacent  was  a 
remarkable  crucifix  of  the  ninth  century,  found  long 
afterward  underground,  made  of  painted  wood,  with 
a  striking  countenance,  most  lifelike  and  agonized; 
it  shows  that  the  Lombard  sculptors  could  be  realistic, 
on  occasion. 

Over  the  third  and  fourth  altars,  respectively,  were 
splendid  examples  of  the  two  Palmas,  nephew  and 
uncle:  the  one  an  entrancing  group  of  St.  Elizabeth 
with  four  female  companions,  under  the  Cross  in 
glory  surrounded  by  ptilfi;  the  other  a  strong  vision 
of  the  risen  Saviour  before  the  Magdalen,  with  the 


812  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

sepulchre  and  its  guarding  angels  to  the  right,  and  to 
the  rear  an  extensive  landscape  of  lake  and  town  and 
mountain,  glowing  under  a  sunset  sky,  —  not  a  can- 
vas of  individual  grace,  but  of  superb  tone,  atmo- 
sphere, and  coloring.  There  was  a  second  Palma  Gio- 
vane  in  the  chapel  to  the  left  of  the  choir,  —  a  dark 
and  tragic  stoning  of  St.  Stephen,  illumined  by  the 
dazzling  figure  of  the  martyr,  —  also  one  of  his  un- 
successful Last  Suppers;  and  near  them,  a  brilliant 
Renaissance  marble  altar  of  1558,  attractively  adorned 
with  sculpture,  though  having  some  modern  additions, 
of  vases  and  a  cupola. 

The  pala  of  the  high-altar  is  a  famous  silver  ante- 
pendium  of  1204;  in  its  centre  are  the  larger  relieved 
forms,  of  the  Madonna  and  several  angels,  —  very  fine 
for  that  early  period,  —  and  roundabout  them,  three 
rows  of  little  saints,  standing.  Above  it  rises  a  silver 
crucifix  of  the  same  epoch.  Near  by,  on  the  choir's 
left  side,  I  saw  the  seventeenth -century  throne  of  the 
Patriarchs,  curiously  plain,  made  of  thin  pieces  of 
wood  painted  red.  How  many  and  many  a  cardinal 
had  sat  proudly  in  that  chair,  and  had  his  red  stock- 
ings removed  with  awful  ceremony.  The  choir  was 
much  elevated,  above  the  ancient  crypt,  remodeled 
in  the  eighteenth  century;  and  upon  the  right  of  the 
handsome,  ascending,  marble  steps,  stood  the  older 
patriarchal  seat,  of  the  eighth  century,  constructed  of 
heavy,  plain,  marble  slabs.  Think  of  it,  —  a  chair 
occupied  by  the  same  line  of  rulers  for  over  eleven 
hundred  years;  it  had  been  the  simple  throne  of  all 
those  majestic  warrior-prelates  who  swayed  Friuli 
for  so  long,  and  fought  with  Grado  and  the  Lagoons. 
It  was  wonderful  to  realize  that  every  one  of  them  had 
occupied  this  very  seat,  in  all  his  grandiose  medieval 
state,  beginning  with  the  fabulous  St.  Calixtus  himself. 


UDIXE  AND  CIVIDALE  313 

An  Amalteo  and  a  fourth  Palma  Giovane  adorned 
the  chapel  to  the  right  of  the  choir,  —  representing 
the  Annunciation,  and  a  group  of  three  saints.  By  it 
opened  the  door  to  the  coretio,  or  little  choir,  used  in 
the  winter-time  because  of  its  superior  warmth;  it  had 
a  pala  by  G.  B.  Tiepolo,  showing  S.  Antonio  Abbate 
kneeling  to  the  Virgin,  —  a  curious  picture,  as  his 
pietistic  efforts  usually  were.  Behind  this  room  were 
the  large  sacristy  and  the  Consiglio  dei  Canonici,  or 
Cathedral  Council.  The  second  and  third  altar-pieces 
of  the  right  aisle  were  school  pieces  of  Palma  Giovane, 
rather  pleasing  in  their  effects. 

Leaving  the  Duomo,  I  was  led  down  a  narrow  way 
behind  it  to  an  ancient  archway,  which  was  probably 
a  gate  of  the  Roman  walls;  a  little  carpenter  popped 
out  of  a  workroom  above  it,  and  accompanied  me 
without  to  the  northern  flank  of  the  huge  convent  of 
the  Ursulines,  which  stretches  over  a  good  part  of  that 
northernmost  section  of  the  city.  Its  outer  wall  is  now 
the  city  boundary,  and  it  backs  upon  the  west  bank  of 
the  river.  On  this  spot  originally  stood  a  little  Roman 
temple,  which  Peltrudis,  the  pious  daughter  of  one  of 
the  Lombard  dukes,  in  the  eighth  or  ninth  century 
convert ed  into  a  chapel,  and  established  a  convent  in 
the  buildings  adjacent.  At  her  death  she  was  buried 
in  the  chapel,  and  subsequently  canonized;  and  the 
edifice  bears  her  name  to  this  day. 

Now  the  result  of  this  good  lady's  actions  was  that 
the  Lombard  sculptures  of  the  best  period,  with  which 
she  embellished  this  chapel  in  its  transformation  from 
a  temple,  were  carefully  preserved  intact  and  in- 
violate during  a  thousand  years  thereafter,  in  the 
unbroken  sanctuary  of  the  Ursulines;  while  nearly  all 
other  artistic  objects  of  the  same  epoch  became  de- 
stroyed, in   the  unending  warfare  of  Friuli.    At  the 


314  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

end  of  that  millennium,  when  artists  were  lamenting 
that  then1  were  so  few  examples  left  of  good  Lombard 
sculpture,  the  town  of  Cividale  suddenly  awoke  to  the 

tact  that  it  carried  hidden  in  its  breast  the  one  undis- 
turbed religious  building  of  Lombard  days,  with  a 
wealth  of  their  artistic  work  to  be  found  nowhere  else; 
so  the  signory  condemned  the  edifice  for  public  uses, 
detached  it  from  the  nunnery,  and  put  the  little  car- 
penter in  charge. 

He  led  me  over  the  fields  outside  the  northern  wall, 
to  the  river-bank,  opened  a  wicket  on  its  very  edge, 
and  took  me  southward  again,  between  the  top  of  the 
bank  and  another  wall,  until  we  reached  the  chapel. 
The  broad  muddy  waters  of  the  Natison  were  rushing 
far  below,  deep-set  between  their  high,  clay  shores, 
and  along  the  farther  side  stretched  the  eastern  sec- 
tion of  the  city,  —  the  quarter  of  S.  Martino;  promi- 
nent among  its  scattered  buildings  was  a  huge,  grim 
prison  of  modern  look,  and  upon  one  of  the  first  range 
of  foothills  towering  close  behind,  black  and  menacing 
with  their  endless  forests,  soared  the  keep  and  battle- 
ments of  a  great  gray  castle.  Very  picturesque  was  its 
appearance,  unchanged  with  its  hemming  woods  from 
the  far-off  days  when  Lombard  workmen  built  it  stone 
on  stone;  and  my  guide  informed  me  that  it  was  still 
occupied  by  the  descendants  of  its  first  baron. 

We  entered  first  an  anteroom  filled  with  Roman  tab- 
lets and  architectural  fragments,  and  then  what  was 
once  the  portico  of  the  temple,  but  is  now  the  chapel's 
tribune,  —  for  the  heathen  edifice  looked  toward  the 
river,  and  the  Christian  one  looks  away  from  it.  The 
four  handsome  marble  columns  that  once  adorned 
the  portico,  now  upheld  the  rood-beam,  and  some  old 
marble  slabs,  fixed  between  them,  partly  screened  the 
tribune  from  the  nave.  This  little  nave  had  neither 


UDIXE  AND   CIVIDALE  315 

aisles  nor  side  chapels,  but  a  simple  wagon-arched  roof; 
and  over  its  plastered  walls  rioted  the  fragmentary 
lines  of  mostly  vanished  frescoes,  —  haloed  golden 
heads,  faint  outlines  of  saintly  forms,  glimpses  of  feet 
or  arms,  and  narrowed  eyes  just  looking  through  the 
stains  of  centuries. 

The  Byzantine  saints  upon  the  right  wall  are  said 
to  have  been  placed  there  in  Peltrudis's  time;  those 
two  wooden-looking  figures  high  upon  the  left  wall 
were  added  about  the  year  1000;  and  the  rest  were 
trecento  products  of  the  school  of  Giotto,  on  both  walls 
and  the  vaulting  and  the  three  divisions  of  the  trib- 
une. The  curious,  richly  carved,  Gothic,  wooden  stalls 
running  round  the  nave,  under  a  continuous,  dainty, 
curving  cornice  of  the  same  material,  as  high  as  the 
rood-beam,  were  also  trecento  work;  and  very  pleasing 
were  the  countless  varied  arabesques  cut  and  painted 
all  over  their  backs  and  arms.  The  two  extra-large 
seats  on  the  entrance  wall  were  for  the  abbess  and  her 
coadjutor;  the  two  front  rows  of  smaller  seats,  with 
low,  uncomfortable  backs,  were  for  the  novices;  and 
I  wondered  to  think  how  many,  many  generations  of 
nuns  and  novices  had  sat  in  these  same  stalls,  singing 
in  the  gloom,  hidden  far  away  here  from  the  turbulent 
advancing  world. 

But  the  great  interest  of  this  edifice  lay  in  the  upper 
part  of  its  entrance  wall,  above  the  doorway  and  the 
cornice,  where  I  saw  the  marvelous  Lombard  sculpt- 
ures which  have  so  rightly  astonished  modern  criti- 
cism. So  amazing  was  this  sudden  revelation  to  me  of 
what  those  long-gone  inedievals  could  do,  that  I  could 
hardly  believe  I  was  beholding  a  work  performed  pre- 
vious to  the  trecento.  It  was  all  in  plaster,  of  a  peculiar 
whiteness  and  ductility,  executed  with  such  profound 
skill  that  one  would  deem  it  the  product  of  an  over- 


S16  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

ripe  art,  instead  of  a  dark  age  of  new  beginnings.  Im- 
mediately over  the  doorway  extended  a  relieved  cor- 
nier of  very  daintiest  design,  and  a  large  ornamental 
arch  just  dear  of  the  wall,  consisting  of  the  most 
exquisite  openwork  one  could  imagine.  Of  its  four 
parallel  parts  or  strata,  the  second  and  chief  was  an 
enchanting  tracery  of  grapevine,  whose  leafy  tendrils, 
in  a  series  of  convolutions,  carried  bunches  of  most 
seductive  contour;  —  a  thing  not  only  perfectly 
unique,  but  uniquely  beautiful,  which  I  have  seen 
nothing  quite  like  in  all  my  wanderings.  The  first  and 
third  strata  were  peculiar,  slender  mouldings,  and  the 
fourth,  or  outer  one,  a  succession  of  quaint  forms  re- 
sembling antique  lyres. 

Over  this  archway  was  a  strange,  effective  string 
course,  or  cornice  across  the  wall,  consisting  of  linked, 
starlike  forms  of  delicate  narcissi ;  upon  it  in  the  centre, 
a  deep,  narrow  niche,  framed  by  two  sturdy  columns 
with  foliage  caps  and  an  openwork  arch  of  flowering 
design;  within  this  niche  sat  a  stiff,  wooden,  bishop's 
image  of  the  fourteenth  century,  of  no  account,  —  but 
on  each  side  stood  three  wonderful  tall  figures  in  three- 
quarter  relief,  of  Peltrudis  and  five  sister  saints. 

These  statues  of  heroic  size,  with  their  little  feet 
upon  one  cornice  and  their  shapely  heads  beneath 
another  of  the  same  delicacy,  were  almost  perfectly 
preserved  after  their  existence  of  a  thousand  years, 
and  exhibited  a  style  of  mien  and  garb,  a  method  of 
dainty  execution,  not  only  utterly  amazing  considering 
their  period,  but  absolutely  different  from  those  of  any 
other  age,  —  with  an  inexpressible  kind  of  gracefulness 
and  dignity  that  stands  quite  alone.  What  a  thorough 
delight  it  was  to  find  such  an  artistic  treasure  of  an 
epoch  considered  savage,  —  to  behold  a  method  of 
sculpture  emerging  from  long-past  darkness  which  is 


UDIXE  AND   CIVIDALE  317 

entirely  foreign  to  those  we  know,  displaying  forms 
and  graces  strange  to  our  own  ideals,  yet  brilliantly 
attractive.  These  unique  figures  were  not  of  Roman 
workmanship,  nor  Byzantine,  nor  of  the  customary 
medieval  styles;  neither  do  they  resemble  any  Re- 
naissance productions,  nor  the  uncouth  modelings  left 
us  elsewhere  by  the  Lombards.  They  stand  in  a  classi- 
fication all  their  own.1 

The  figures  are  exceptionally  short-waisted,  with 
long  legs  and  disproportionately  short  arms;  but  those 
that  are  belted  wear  gowns  falling  from  just  below  the 
bust  in  Empire  fashion,  in  long  straight  folds,  to 
broad  and  richly  embroidered  hems,  —  bestowing  the 
inevitable  slender  gracefulness  of  that  mode;  their 
hands,  with  drooping  sleeves  long  from  the  elbow, 
hold  crosses  and  chaplets  pressed  against  their  breasts; 
their  necks  are  wreathed  with  jeweled  necklaces,  and 
their  locks  adorned  with  royal  crowns.  These  four 
are  princesses.  The  other  two,  beside  the  central 
niche,  are  nuns  swathed  closely  in  robes  of  elegant 
drapery,  with  simple  coifs  across  their  heads,  and  hands 
Outstretched  in  exhortation. 

In  spite  of  the  stiffness  of  the  attitudes  and  the  poor 
proportions  of  these  forms,  which  betray  the  By- 
zantine influence  of  their  period,  they  are  unutterably 
captivating,  with  a  haunting  charm  which  defies  analy- 
sis; il  musl  come  partly  from  the  exquisite  drapery  of 
the  robes,  partly  from  the  fair,  rounded  limbs  outlined 
beneath  in  wondrous  moulding,  partly  from  the  gentle, 
maiden-like  inturning  of  the  knees  (a  stroke  of  true 
genius),  and,  above  all,  from  the  serene  loveliness  of  the 

1  MNor  'I"  we  know,"  lays  Mr.  Perkins,  "of  any  other  bo  perfect  ex- 
ample of  that  transition  period  in  Italian  architecture,  when  the  Roman 
ami  Byzantine  elements  leemed  to  hesitate,  before  blending  into  the 
Romanesque."    [Italian  Sctdptort.) 


818  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF   ITALY 

virgin  faces.  How  under  heaven  could  a  man  of  those 
rough  times,  in  a  country  of  barbarians  like  the  Longo- 
bards,  have  learned  to  model  such  beautiful,  stately 
heads,  such  pure,  maidenly  countenances  of  rapt 
expression,  and  such  forms  of  alluring  contour,  dis- 
played beneath  finely  fitted  and  elegant  robes!  It  is 
a  miracle.  But  what  is  still  more  interesting  is  the 
originality  of  the  style,  which  has  a  medieval  direct- 
ness and  simplicity  in  its  lines,  as  well  as  a  touch  of 
Byzantine  obliqueness  and  angularity,  yet  produces 
a  vivid  realism,  and  a  weird,  striking  grace  that  re- 
minds me  of  nothing  so  much  as  the  art  of  the  Japan- 
ese. 

The  sarcophagus  in  which  S.  Peltrudis  was  buried 
I  saw  still  lying  in  a  corner  of  the  choir,  with  no  notice- 
able ornamentation;  it  had  been  opened  by  the  muni- 
cipality seven  years  previous,  and  some  dust  and  frag- 
ments of  bone  beheld  by  the  officials,  who  closed  them 
up  again.  —  I  departed  with  my  guide,  left  him  at  his 
Roman  gateway,  and  walked  to  the  bridge  that  car- 
ries the  main  street  over  the  river  a  little  east  of  the 
Cathedral.  It  is  a  handsome  bridge,  of  stone  arches 
and  piers  and  Renaissance  workmanship,  called  the 
Ponte  del  Diavolo,  —  for  no  reason  that  I  could  find, 
except  perhaps  from  the  queer  Italian  fondness  for 
naming  such  structures  after  his  Satanic  Majesty;  and 
an  imposing  vista  was  given  by  it,  of  the  rushing  waters 
far  below  in  their  yellow  banks,  and  the  mountains 
towering  black  and  grim  above  its  distant  bend. 

Just  beyond  it,  on  the  left  side  of  the  way,  rose 
the  small  churches  of  S.  Martino  and  S.  Maria  dell' 
Ospedale  (or  de'  Battuti).  They  were  not  remarkable 
externally,  but  contained  several  important  objects. 
S.  Martino  held  the  famous  altar  of  Duke  Pemmone, 
which  he  presented  on  restoring  the  edifice,  about 


UDINE  AND  CIVIDALE  319 

735,  —  covered  with  very  crude  reliefs,  formerly 
colored,  of  the  Epiphany,  the  Visitation,  and  Christ 
seated  between  angels,  —  quite  the  opposite  of  the 
fine  art  of  S.  Peltrudis.  The  three  Magi  are  said  to  be 
portraits  of  Duke  Rachis  and  Pemmone's  two  other 
sons.  In  S.  Maria  I  found  Cividale's  superb  master- 
piece of  Pellegrino,  over  its  high-altar,  —  a  canvas  of 
surpassing  loveliness,  divided  into  three  compart- 
ments: in  the  centre  was  the  Madonna  with  four 
female  saints,  and  a  child-angel  at  her  feet  between 
Saints  Donato  and  John  the  Baptist,  the  former  hold- 
ing a  model  of  the  city  in  his  hands;  while  St.  Sebas- 
tian stood  in  the  right  division,  St.  Michael  in  the 
left.  It  was  a  work  of  exquisitely  soft  tone  and  shad- 
ing, and  deep,  rich  flesh-tints,  of  symmetrical  group- 
ing and  dazzling  beauty,  both  in  the  individual  figures 
and  in  the  tout  ensemble;  the  figures  were  splendidly 
modeled,  the  coloring  was  a  gorgeous  scheme,  and  the 
features  of  the  Madonna  and  her  companions,  quite 
enchanting.  The  only  failure  was  in  its  lack  of  decided 
expression  and  feeling.  Near  by  on  the  altar  wall  were 
hung  two  other  little  pieces  by  the  same  hand,  — 
some  winsome  cherubs,  that  were  probably  fragments 
of  a  larger  work.  The  local  Church  of  S.  Maria  in 
Valle  also  contains  a  specimen  of  Pellegrino,  inviting, 
but  not  as  grand  a  picture  as  the  former,  which  Lanzi 
says  is  "enumerated  among  the  rarest  paintings  of 
Friuli." 

Returning  to  the  Piazza  of  theDuomo,I  visited  after 
lunch  the  Museo  Civico  on  its  western  side.  It  was  a 
good-sized  building  of  two  floors,  given  up  entirely 
to  the  various  collections;  and  a  truly  wonderful  ag- 
gregation they  were,  not  merely  for  ;i  place  of  (  ivi- 
dale's  size,  but  for  any  city;  for  here  lay  the  greatest 
Collection  of  Lombard  relics  existing  to-day,  with  the 


320  PLAIN  TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

possible  exception  of  the  jeweled  articles  of  Monza 
Cathedral.  The  two  large  halls  of  the  ground  floor 
were  spread  with  architectural  fragments,  tablets, 
and  .sculptures  of  the  Roman  Forum  Julii,  and  the 
larger,  stone  objects  of  the  Lombard  period,  including 
rude  monuments,  weapons,  and  the  remarkable  sarco- 
phagus of  the  first  duke,  Gisulf. 

The  learned  custodian,  Signor  Mattia  Banino,  dis- 
played the  results  of  many  years  of  study  in  indicating 
to  me  the  countless  points  of  interest.  Upstairs,  the 
various  rooms  held  in  glass  cases  the  smaller  Lombard 
relics,  of  every  branch  of  their  civilization,  and  above 
all  the  precious  articles  that  belonged  to  the  Cath- 
edral treasury.  Among  these  amazing  proofs  of  Lom- 
bard artistic  skill  were  the  ivory  pax,  or  plate,  con- 
taining a  relief  of  the  Crucifixion,  adorned  with  lapis- 
lazuli  and  many  other  gems,  which  Count  Ursus  of 
Ceneda  was  wont  to  kiss  after  mass  in  the  customary 
sign  of  peace;  a  gospel  with  exquisite  backs  of  carved 
wood;  an  ivory  casket  covered  with  reliefs  of  religious 
scenes  and  figures,  of  extraordinary  merit;  and  many 
other  delightful  objects  in  ivory,  wood,  and  silver,  em- 
bellished with  Byzantine-looking  carvings  or  studded 
heavily  with  precious  stones  left  from  Roman  days. 

There  were  fascinating  works  also  of  the  later,  me- 
dieval periods,  including  the  very  prayer-book  used 
by  St.  Elizabeth  of  Thuringia,  bound  in  elegant 
ivory  backs  and  containing  duecento  miniatures,  — 
the  psalter  that  once  belonged  to  Queen  Gertrude  of 
Hungary,  and  crucifixes,  paxes,  coffers,  goblets,  plates, 
of  every  kind  of  material  and  rich  ornamentation. 
They  opened  to  my  eyes  visions  of  royal  luxury  in  the 
"Dark  Ages,"  fairly  overwhelming  in  artistic  wealth, 
with  princesses  making  everyday  use  of  articles  so 
precious  that  a  queen  of  to-day  would  lock  them  up  in 


UDINE  AND  CIVIDALE  321 

her  vaults.  Here  also  were  many  of  the  various  little 
articles,  household  and  decorative,  used  in  Imperial 
Roman  days;  coins  of  every  epoch  from  the  republican 
down,  including  one  with  a  contemporary  view  of  the 
newly  finished  Coliseum;  glassware  of  Roman  make 
and  Venetian;  medieval  ivory  sculptures  by  the  score; 
and  a  lot  of  those  glistening  tomes  executed  in  early 
monasteries,  with  page-settings  and  miniatures  as 
brilliant  as  flashing  jewels.  Such  were  but  a  few  of 
the  contents  of  this  treasure-house  of  olden  times, 
that  after  so  many  centuries  makes  us  its  revelation 
of  the  artistic  genius  of  the  barbarian  invaders,  and  of 
the  darkest  age  of  history.1 

On  the  day  following,  I  was  once  more  aboard  train, 
swiftly  leaving  sad  Friuli  behind  me,  retracing  my 
steps  without  a  stop  to  Treviso.  There  I  took  the 
branch-line  to  Vicenza,  where  connection  was  made 
with  the  main  line  to  the  west.  And  the  close  of  a 
long  day's  journeying  found  me  entering  with  the 
sinking  sun  a  great  city  whose  marble  quays  and  streets 
blazed  ruby-tinted  in  the  after-glow,  raising  in  my 
heart  a  pa?an  of  joy  as  I  gazed  at  their  beauty  and 
grandeur,  —  the  city  of  Italy  that  stands  below  only 
Rome  and  Florence  and  Venezia,  —  Verona  la  Degna. 

1  A  final  item  of  interest  in  regard  to  Cividale  is  that  it  was  the  birth- 
place of  that  wonderful  actress,  Adelaide  Ristori;  and  the  house  in  which 
that  event  occurred  can  still  be  pointed  out. 


CHAPTER  IX 

VERONA   LA   DEGNA 

Am  I  in  Italy?  Is  this  the  Mincio? 

Are  those  the  distant  turrets  of  Verona? 

And  shall  I  sup  where  Juliet  at  the  masque 

Saw  her  loved  Montague,  and  now  sleeps  by  him? 

—  Rogers. 

So  felt  I,  as  I  stood  once  again  in   this  greatest  of 
the  plain-towns,  grandest  of  them  all  in  her  glorious 
past  leadership  in  warfare,  literature,  and  art,  superbest 
in  her  situation,  loveliest  still  in  her  miles  of  marble 
palaces  and  churches,  her  statued  life,  her  school  of 
paintingsurpassing  all  the  others,  her  whole  exposition 
of  the  finest  accomplishments  of  man.    Looking  upon 
the  broad  Adige  dashing  mightily  between  her  quays 
and  castled  hills,  I  reflected  once  more  upon  the  tre- 
mendous history  which  it  had  made  and  witnessed. 
That  which  Ruskin  said  of  the  inspiring  city  echoed 
from    my    heart:    "Though    truly    Rouen,    Geneva, 
and  Pisa  have  been  the  centres  of  teaching  to  me, 
Verona  has  given  the  coloring  to  all  they  taught.   She 
has  virtually  represented  the  fate  and  the  beauty  of 
Italy  to  me;  and  whatever  concerning  Italy  I  have 
felt,  or  been  able  with  any  charm  or  force  to  say,  has 
been  dwelt  with  more  deeply,  and  said  more  earnestly, 
for  her  sake."  1 

The  greatness  of  Verona  was  the  inevitable  result 
of  her  situation,  —  as  the  place  made  inevitable  the 
growth  of  a  powerful  city.  Two  thirds  of  the  way  from 
the  Piedmontese  highlands  to  the  sea,  where  the  plain  of 

1  Ruskin,  Prceterita,  vol.  n. 


VERONA  LA  DEGNA  323 

Italy  is  broadest,  the  wide  stream  of  the  Adige  bursts 
forth  from  its  majestic  valley,  which  like  a  plough- 
share the  river  has  furrowed  straight  through  the 
beetling  Alps  from  far-off  Bozen,  Innsbruck,  and  the 
lands  of  the  Teutons.  Wonderfully  direct  is  that  moun- 
tain-road, almost  as  if  drawn  to  a  line,  and  of  remark- 
ably gentle  grade  also,  rising  but  little  above  the  level 
of  the  plain  through  the  heart  of  the  towering  peaks. 
Here  then,  as  Ruskin  says,  is  "the  great  gate  out 
of  Germany  into  Italy,  through  which  not  only  Gothic 
armies  came,  but  after  the  Italian  nation  is  formed,  the 
current  of  northern  life  enters  still  into  its  heart 
through  the  mountain  artery,  as  constantly  and 
strongly  as  the  cold  waves  of  the  Adige  itself."  This 
is  the  pass  to  which  Bassano  was  a  side  door,  through 
the  Valsugana  as  far  as  Trent;  and  it  was  vastly  more 
important  than  that  other  pass  via  the  Piave  and  Ca- 
dore,  —  which  was  handy  for  Venice  alone. 

Southward  of  the  huge  lake  of  Garda  the  Rhaetian 
Alps  have  thrown  an  outwork  of  foothills  upon  the 
plain,  and  a  little  further  to  the  east,  that  formidable 
projecting  bastion  which  terminates  in  the  Monti  Be- 
rici;  between  these  promontories  is  the  wedge-shaped 
bay  into  which  the  Adige  debouches.  Dashing  from  its 
valley  the  stream  rushes  along  the  bay's  eastern  side, 
laves  the  western  bases  of  the  last  few  rounded  hills, 
and  empties  its  waters  upon  the  plain.  Here,  upon 
those  final  small  elevations,  grew  the  ancient  city 
of  Verona,  extending  down  their  slopes  to  the  watery 
highway,  crossing  it  to  the  farther  side,  and  spreading 
westward  along  the  level  peninsula  between  the  last 
two  bends  of  the  river.  For  the  Adige  comes  down  in 
windings  like  a  letter  S,  whose  head  is  toward  the 
northwest,  whose  centre  line  extends  northeasterly; 
the  hills  rise  from  the  east  side  of  its  lower  half;  and 


324  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

the  growing  city  crept  southwesterly  over  the  lower 
inclosure  till  it  stretched  fax  and  wide  beyond. 

The  wall  of  the  Roman  town  cut  across  this  penin- 
sula at  about  half  its  length;  the  wall  of  the  Visconti 
exactly  cm  1  traced  it;  and  the  final  great  fortifications 
of  the  Venetians,  celebrated  as  the  most  powerful  of 
Renaissance  times,  and  in  fact  quite  impregnable, 
swept  in  a  huge  semicircle  from  the  centre  of  the 
lei  ter's  top  line  to  the  end  of  the  bottom,  encompass- 
ing a  large  section  to  the  west.  The  eastern  fortifica- 
tions  retained  their  original  location,  in  an  irregular 
line  along  the  summits  of  the  hills  a  third  to  a  half- 
mile  from  the  river's  lower  bend,  adorned  with  strong 
fortresses  at  the  highest  points,  and  enfolding  at  their 
southern  end  a  wide  corner  of  the  plain.  This  ancient 
quarter  of  the  city,  called  by  the  people  Veronetta,  — 
or  little  Verona,  —  is  very  narrow  in  its  northern  part, 
being  closely  confined  between  the  Adige  and  the  steep 
height  of  S.  Pietro,  which  was  the  town's  birthplace 
and  has  ever  been  its  citadel;  but  toward  the  south  the 
eminences  gradually  recede  as  the  stream  curves  away 
southwest,  allowing  the  quarter  to  widen  out  in  the 
shape  of  a  triangle. 

Since  the  days  of  the  Goths  and  Lombards,  when 
Theodoric  and  Alboin  successively  inhabited  the  com- 
ii landing  castle  of  S.  Pietro,  the  public  buildings  and 
centres  of  life  have  been  entirely  on  the  western  bank, 
and  Veronetta  has  steadily  dwindled  in  importance; 
until  to-day  it  remains  but  a  mostly  forgotten  corner 
of  the  majestic  city,  visited  only  for  the  splendid 
old  churches  that  dot  its  silent  streets.  The  one  ex- 
ception to  this  decadence  is  the  long,  busy  thorough- 
fare of  the  Venti  Settembre,  leading  straight  through 
its  southern  portion,  from  the  Ponte  delle  Navi  to  the 
principal  city  gate  at  the  southeastern  angle,  called 


VERONA  LA  DEGNA  325 

Porta  Vescovo,  —  shortly  without  which  lies  the 
main  railway  station;  but  the  traffic  with  which  the 
railroad  causes  this  avenue  to  be  crowded,  never  stops 
at  its  shops  nor  diverges  into  its  side  ways,  —  it  flows 
unrestingly  across  the  river  to  the  modern  centres 
of  trade,  religion,  and  amusement. 

It  was  the  trade  that  flowed  from  earliest  days  up 
and  down  the  long  Adige  Valley,  —  taking  Italian 
products  to  the  German  countries,  and  bringing  their 
products  back,  — that  erected  Verona,  sitting  astride 
and  guarding  the  route,  into  a  city  of  such  size  and 
power.  Just  so  since  the  beginnings  of  time  have 
trade-routes  made  and  unmade  the  great  cities  of  the 
world.  We  know  not  how  early  men  dwelt  on  this 
spot,  but  they  certainly  did  so  in  the  fourth  century 
B.C.,  for  many  remains  of  that  period  have  been  dug 
up  around  the  city.  By  the  commencement  of  the 
third  century  B.C.  Verona  was  already  ruled  by  Rome, 
—  in  consequence,  it  is  believed  of  voluntary  submis- 
sion; in  B.C.  89  she  obtained  the  privileges  of  a  Latin 
colony,  and  about  42  became  a  Roman  Municipium. 
Her  importance  continually  increased;  for  she  stood 
at  the  confluence  of  several  great  Roman  highways, 
leading  from  all  directions,  and  uniting  for  the  north. 

In  the  Imperial  days  her  troubles  began,  for  faction 
first,  and  foe  afterwards,  aimed  always  to  seize  this 
key  to  the  Alps.  At  Verona  met  the  legions  of  Ves- 
pasian in  0!)  A.D.,  weary  from  their  long  march  from 
Syria,  with  the  troops  of  the  Emperor  Vitellius;  and 
from  I li<-  scries  of  resulting  battles  the  former  assumed 
the  sceptre  of  the  world.  Deems  and  his  legions,  later 
on,  slew  the  Emperor  Philip  without,  Verona's  walls. 
The  Emperor  Gallienus  extended  and  strengthened 
those  walls,  including  within  them  for  the  first  time 
the  huge  amphitheatre;  and  Claudius  II  in  208  saved 


826  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

the  city  from  an  irruption  of  the  northern  barbarians, 
who  were  pouring  down  the  valley. 

More  momentous  than  these  events,  however,  was 
the  battle  at  Verona  in  312  between  the  hosts  of  Con- 
stantine  and  Maxentius,  when  the  former  marched 
from  his  kingdom  of  Gaul  to  hurl  the  latter  from  his 
Roman  throne.  Constantino  was  victorious,  —  and 
again, later,  at  Rome;  he  united  under  his  own  sway  the 
countries  of  the  West  and  East,  and  made  Christianity 
at  last  the  religion  of  the  State;  — which  position,  ex- 
cept for  short  relapses,  such  as  that  of  Julian,  was 
thenceforth  maintained. 

With  the  coming  of  Alaric  in  402,  Verona  entered 
upon  the  critical  portion  of  her  history,  since  she  be- 
came one  of  the  chief  objects  of  the  barbarian  in- 
vaders, and  a  capital  of  their  kingdoms.    As  Ruskin 
has  well  said,  "There  are  no  tragedies  like  the  tra- 
gedies  of   Verona  under  the   Gothic  and  Lombard 
Kings."1    Alaric  was  retreating  from  Italy  after  the 
disastrous  battle  of  Pollentia,  when  the  fairness  of 
Verona  tempted  him  to  turn  aside  and  seize  her;  but 
the  great  Stilicho  was  on  hand  with  his  pursuing  le- 
gions, and  under  the  very  walls  of  the  city  inflicted  a 
terrific  beating  upon  the  Goths  which  permitted  but 
a  portion  of  their  host  to  ascend  the  valley.    Under 
Attila,  fifty  years  later,  Verona  was  not  so  fortunate : 
the  magnificent  Roman  city,  with  her  countless  marble 
palaces,  baths,  temples,  theatres,  which  we  can  only 
imagine  now  from  the  size  of  the  relics,  was  left  sacked 
and  burning  by  the  Huns  when  they  marched  away. 
Much,  however,  was  not  destroyed,  and  the  ruins  were 
soon  rebuilt  in  a  baser  style. 

Then  came  Odoacer,  King  of  the  Visigoths  remain- 
ing in  Italy,  who  displaced  the  last  Emperor  of  the 

1  Ruskin,  Verona,  and  other  Lectures. 


\  ER(  >V\      OLD  CASTLE   BRIDGE 


VERONA,     CHURCH   "I     SANTA    MARIA    IN    ORGANO    1ST.    MART'S 

01      I  ill.   '  IRG  K.S.) 


VERONA  LA  DEGNA  327 

West,  Romulus  Augustulus,  and  ruled  Italy  under  the 
title  of  Patrician  granted  by  Constantinople.  He  not 
only  occupied  Verona,  but  was  the  first  ruler  to  make 
it  his  seat  of  power.  Who  could  help  being  enthralled 
by  those  gracious,  gardened  hills,  palace-  and  castle- 
crowned,  with  the  bright  ribbon  of  the  Adige  winding 
at  their  feet.  The  beautiful  city,  glowing  with  her 
white  and  roseate  marbles,  with  Ravenna  now  took 
Rome's  place  as  capital  of  Italy;  and  held  it  through 
generations  of  changing  dynasties.  Odoacer  was  ele- 
vated in  476;  and  only  thirteen  years  later  that  other 
branch  of  his  race,  the  Ostrogoths,  descended  from 
the  Julian  Alps  with  the  great  Theodoric  at  their  head. 
I  have  already  mentioned  how  they  defeated  Odoacer 
on  gaining  the  Friulan  plain,  and  scattered  the  Visi- 
goths before  them.1  The  latter  were  reorganized  at 
Verona,  and  when  Theodoric  had  slowly  approached, 
made  before  its  walls  their  final  stand. 

So  did  the  city  once  more  witness  a  battle  deciding 
the  fate  of  empire.  Theodoric  was  triumphant,  and 
Odoacer  with  his  remaining  soldiers  fled  to  Ravenna, 
where  he  was  killed  some  years  later  by  the  conquer- 
or's own  hand.  The  latter  took  his  defeated  adver- 
sary's place  in  the  palaces  of  Verona,  lifting  the  town 
into  a  prosperity  and  world-importance  that  have 
made  his  name  predominant  in  her  history.  Who 
thinks  of  Verona,  thinks  of  the  great  warrior  and  law- 
giver throned  upon  her  castled  heights,  rebuilding  her 
stately  streets,  reconstructing  the  political  fabric  and 
the  justice  of  ancient  Rome. 

Theodoric  loved  Verona,  and  admired  beyond  all 
others  her  beautiful  location.  He  rebuilt  the  old  for- 
tress-citadel upon  the  hill  of  S.  Retro  into  a  magni- 
ficent structure  thai  was  both  a  palace  and  a  castle; 

1  See  l><K'i»ning  of  last  chupter. 


328  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

and  there  he  reigned,  looking  down  over  the  wide  city 
at  his  loot.  Willi  the  stones  of  the  Roman  ruins,  and 
particularly  those  from  the  Arena,  he  constructed 
many  other  palaces  and  fortresses,  baths  and  public 
buildings,  —  restored  the  aqueduct,  and  strengthened 
the  outer  walls.  After  the  death  of  Odoacer,  he  dwelt 
much  at  Ravenna  also,  but  Verona  was  the  residence 
that  he  most  enjoyed.  There  in  his  Gothic  palace  he 
often  received  in  state  the  envoys  of  the  northern 
nations,  who  took  back  to  their  tribes  those  stories  of 
his  power  that  gave  rise  to  the  German  legends  of 
the  mighty  "Dietrich  von  Bern." 

Theodoric  is  said  to  have  disliked  and  somewhat 
repressed  the  Catholic  religion,  —  which  therefore 
added  to  those  legends  the  tale  of  his  demoniacal 
chase;  this  (among  many  other  places)  was  represented 
in  the  reliefs  carved  on  the  facade  of  the  Veronese 
Church  of  S.  Zeno,  five  centuries  later.  Christian- 
ity had  settled  very  early  in  Verona,  so  much  so  that 
her  first  bishop,  S.  Euprepio,  is  said  to  have  been 
appointed  by  St.  Peter  himself;  her  whole  first  score 
of  bishops  were  saints,  and  the  eighth  of  them,  St. 
Zeno,  became  through  his  unusual  learning  and  devo- 
tion the  city's  most  prominent  spiritual  intercessor. 
Three  different  churches  were  named  after  him;  and 
the  one  just  spoken  of  is  the  largest  in  the  town,  as 
well  as  the  most  interesting.  During  the  reign  of  Dio- 
cletian, about  300,  the  renowned  martyrdom  occurred 
here  of  Saints  Fermo  and  Rustico:  the  former  was  a 
noble  who  refused  to  recant  his  faith  though  offered 
pardon,  the  latter  a  poor,  devoted  friend  who  shared 
his  belief;  they  were  executed  in  the  Arena  with  hor- 
rible tortures,  before  the  whole  delighted  populace. 
The  story  has  it  that  the  fire  on  which  they  were 
placed  was  extinguished  by  a  heaven-sent  fall  of  rain, 


VERONA  LA  DEGNA  329 

so  that  they  had  to  be  decapitated;  and  ever  since 
then,  through  all  the  ages,  their  names  have  been 
prayed  to  in  times  of  drought,  —  often  with  curious 
success. 

During  the  Byzantine  repossession  of  Italy  under 
Justinian,  his  forces  for  a  while  seized  and  occupied 
Verona.  The  Ostrogoths  expelled  them,  —  by  an- 
other great  battle  before  the  city,  —  but  the  Goths 
had  become  so  weakened  that  their  last  king,  Teias, 
was  soon  defeated  and  slain  by  Narses,  in  the  year  560, 
and  their  power  came  to  an  end.  Narses  retired  to  hold 
sway  at  Rome  as  the  viceroy  of  the  Emperor;  but 
eight  years  later,  as  he  was  dying,  the  mighty  Lom- 
bards crossed  the  Alps  under  the  leadership  of  their 
king,  Alboin,  and  seized  upon  the  plain  which  after- 
wards assumed  their  name,  with  no  Italian  army  to 
oppose  them.  Pa  via  became  their  capital  and  metro- 
polis; but  Alboin  lingered  also  in  the  palaces  of  Verona, 
and  came  there  to  that  tragic  end  which  has  immor- 
talized the  name  of  Rosamund. 

To  sum  up  the  oft-told  tale,  she  was  the  daughter  of 
Cunamund,  King  of  the  Gepidae,  the  third  of  the 
Gothic  nations,  who  had  kept  to  their  homes  in  the 
Balkan  Plain;  Alboin  had  conquered  them  before  he 
started  for  Italy,  slain  Cunamund,  and  made  his  skull 
into  a  cup  that  always  "adorned"  his  table.  The  fair 
Rosamund,  as  beautiful  as  she  was  guileful  and  licen- 
tious, became  Album's  queen.  One  evening  at  Verona, 
when  he  was  exceptionally  drunk  at  the  daily  banquet, 
he  filled  the  skull-cup  with  ruddy  wine  and  forced  his 
wile  !o  quaff  from  I  he  ghastly  relic  of  her  father.    Ah, 

shades  of  Sophocles  and  Euripides,  —  not  even  you 
could  have  imagined  ;i  more  creepy  drama. 

The  queen,  teeming  with  vengeance,  stepped  down 
from  her  dignity  to  the  joint  love  of  Helmichis  the 


880  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

armor-bearer  and  Peredeus  the  warrior;  together  they 
slow  Alboin,  when  his  wife  had  sent  away  all  serv- 
ants, lulled  him  to  sleep,  and  "urged  the  reluctant 
conspirators  to  the  instant  execution  of  the  deed."1 
Her  dream  of  reigning  in  his  stead  was  quickly  dis- 
pelled by  the  wrathful  chiefs.  She  fled  with  her  two 
lovers  and  young  daughter  to  the  Byzantine  exarch 
who  ruled  at  Ravenna,  captivated  him  also,  and  at  his 
jealous  suggestion  poisoned  Helmichis,  while  Peredeus 
had  his  eyes  put  out.  Her  own  due  fate  was  not  want- 
ing; for  when  Helmichis  had  drunk  half  the  enven- 
omed cup  and  felt  its  instant  effect,  with  a  dagger  to 
Rosamund's  bosom  he  made  her  take  the  rest  of  it; 
shrieking  and  writhing,  she  quickly  followed  him  into 
the  final  arms  of  death. 

Lombard  dukes  and  kings  succeeded  Alboin  inter- 
mittently at  Verona.  The  third  sovereign,  Antharis, 
made  the  romantic  wooing  of  Theodolinda,  daughter 
of  the  Bavarian  King  Garibaldo,  which  has  been  so 
often  since  reproduced  in  varied  form;  under  the  guise 
of  his  own  emissary  to  the  Bavarian  Court  he  loved 
and  won  her.  She  it  was  who  turned  the  Lombards 
from  their  Arian  religion  to  the  Roman  Catholic. 
About  two  centuries  later,  already  decadent,  they 
yielded  Verona  to  the  attacks  of  Pepin,  King  of 
France;  and  Desiderius,  their  last  king,  in  774  was 
forced  to  surrender  his  capital  and  his  whole  country 
to  Pepin's  invincible  son,  Charlemagne.  The  Lombard 
had  given  Charlemagne  his  daughter,  Desideria,  in 
marriage,  to  avert  the  storm,  but  the  Frenchman  soon 
repudiated  her  and  sent  her  home;  in  the  resulting 
warfare  her  brother  Adelchi  fortified  and  held  Verona, 
but  it  was  taken  in  siege  by  a  large  French  army,  and 
soon  constituted  the  capital  of  a  French  county. 

1  Gibbon,  vol.  iv,  chap.  xlv. 


VERONA  LA  DEGNA  331 

Nothing  better  shows  the  fascination  of  ancient 
Verona  than  the  effect  she  produced  upon  the  tri- 
umphant Carlovingians.  Pepin  spent  there  all  the  time 
that  he  could  spare;  Charlemagne  himself  relaxed  and 
rested  on  the  lovely  banks  of  the  Adige.  The  populace 
cherished  for  centuries  memories  of  Pepin's  power  and 
benevolence,  and  till  recently  pointed  out  a  stone  seat 
in  the  ruins  of  the  older  castle  of  S.  Pietro,  from  which 
they  said  he  had  administered  his  unbiased  justice. 
A  reminder  of  the  residence  of  Charlemagne  exists  in 
the  quaint  statues  of  Roland  and  Oliver  adorning  the 
sides  of  the  main  portal  of  the  Cathedral.  The  Frank- 
ish  Counts  following  the  latter  ruled  at  Verona  for 
some  eighty  years,  until  in  886  the  last  of  them  was 
overthrown  by  that  strange,  ambitious  character, 
Duke  Berengarius  of  Friuli,  who,  though  foiled  in  his 
aims  to  sway  all  Italy,  made  himself  a  kingdom  out  of 
the  Lombard  Plain,  and  reigned  over  it  at  Verona 
until  923.  His  death  was  another  tragedy:  he  was  mur- 
dered by  a  favorite  noble,  Flambert,  whom  he  had 
already  forgiven  one  plot  of  assassination  and  heaped 
high  with  favors,  and  who  struck  the  fatal  blow  as  the 
King  embraced  him. 

Berengarius's  kingdom  crumbled  with  his  death, 
but  Verona  and  her  territory  were  successively  the 
prey  of  Rudolph,  Duke  of  Burgundy,  and  Hugh,  Duke 
of  Provence;  three  of  his  own  line  followed  the  latter, 
and  then  the  Germans  at  last  stepped  into  their  fated 
hegemony  of  North  Italy,  with  the  invasion,  in  9(12, 
of  the  Emperor  Otho  I.  Verona  was  the  first  city  met 
and  taken  by  him;  and  she  not  only  settled  into  a  long 
German  subjection,  under  the  immediate  rule  of  ap- 
pointed marquises,  bu1  developed  a  strong  Imperial 
feeling,  becoming  the  leading  and  most  faithful  Ghi- 
belline  city  in  the  peninsula.    This  condition  lasted 


832  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

until  the  middle  of  the  twelfth  century,  when  the 
cruelties  and  rapine  of  the  Emperor  Frederick  I,  or 
Barbarossa,  caused  Verona  to  join  with  the  other 
plain-towns,  in  11G4,  to  form  a  convention  for  their 
joint  defense.  This  was  the  so-called  Lombard  League, 
which  fought  the  Emperor  so  long  and  bitterly  that 
he  had  eventually  to  retreat  from  Italy;  it  was  re- 
newed against  his  grandson  Frederick  II,  in  1226,  and 
resulted  again  in  such  triumphant  success  that  no 
German  emperor  followed  him  into  the  peninsula  for 
a  space  of  sixty  years. 

These  successes  not  only  insured  the  power  of  the 
communes  over  the  country,  they  also  overcame  the 
conquerors,  by  bringing  forth  the  race  of  local  despots. 
^Vhile  the  two  struggles  continued,  each  town  was 
rent  by  the  fighting  factions  of  Guelph  and  Ghibel- 
line,  —  for  there  was  always  a  party  who  sympathized 
with  the  emperors.  In  Verona  the  Guelphs  were 
favored  by  the  Cappelletti  family  of  nobles,  and  the 
Ghibellines  were  led  by  the  Montecchi,  — the  same  ad- 
versaries that  Shakespeare  has  presented  to  us  under 
the  names  of  Capulets  and  Montagues,  Juliet  belong- 
ing to  the  one  and  Romeo  to  the  other. 

The  leaders  of  the  Guelphs  wrere  the  great  family  of 
San  Bonafacio,  who  succeeded  at  one  time  in  expelling 
the  Montecchi  and  their  allies,  and  then  called  in  the 
Marchese  d'  Este,  Azzo  VI,  to  rule  the  city  as  podesta. 
The  Estensi  had  not  yet  seized  upon  Ferrara,  and 
swayed  their  primitive  territory  in  the  Euganean  Hills. 
Azzo  held  forth  in  Verona  for  a  while,  till  the  Montec- 
chi and  other  exiles,  with  the  aid  of  his  own  uncle,  re- 
gained the  city  by  a  surprise.  Azzo  escaped,  procured 
reinforcements,  retook  the  city,  fought  the  Ghibel- 
lines from  street  to  street  and  house  to  house,  for 
several  weeks,  and  finally  exterminated  what  was  left 


VERONA  LA  DEGNA  333 

of  them  in  their  last  remaining  stronghold.  This  was 
one  of  the  most  ferocious  and  desperate  civic  struggles 
of  the  Middle  Ages. 

Soon  afterwards  came  the  League's  war  with  Fred- 
erick II,  which  extended  desultorily  over  twenty-five 
years.  Seven  years  after  its  commencement,  in  1233, 
Fra  Giovanni  the  peacemaker  held  that  astounding 
meeting  of  all  the  plain-towns,  to  make  a  union  of 
peace,  which  gathered  on  the  plain  of  Pasquara,  three 
miles  from  Verona's  walls.1  The  pact  which  the  vast 
multitude  swore  to  did  not  long  endure.  The  friar 
became  ruler  of  Verona,  but  after  his  already  men- 
tioned feat  of  burning  sixty  citizens  in  a  body,  was 
cast  down  and  imprisoned.  The  city's  third  despot 
quickly  succeeded,  —  the  worst  and  strongest  of  them 
all. 

Ezzelino  da  Romano  was  unwisely  named  by  the 
Veronese  to  be  their  captain,  at  the  desire  of  Freder- 
ick II,  when  the  latter  occupied  the  city  in  1236;  and 
he  made  himself  absolute  master  for  over  a  score  of 
years.  In  1238  his  marriage  to  the  Emperor's  natural 
daughter  Selvaggia  was  celebrated  with  much  pomp 
at  the  local  Church  of  St.  Zeno.  Ezzelino's  cruelties 
were  much  the  same  at  Verona  as  elsewhere;  and  when 
he  died  in  1250,  it  was  only  to  leave  the  city  to  a 
follower  who  founded  a  whole  dynasty  of  masterful 
tyrants.  This  was  Maslino  della  Scala,  the  first  of  his 
line,  who  was  chosen  podestct  by  the  voice  of  the  people 
as  soon  as  Kx/.elino  was  dead. 

The  Delia  Scala  were  a  local  family  of  merchants, 

of  no  known  ancesl  ry,  who  had  come  into  prominence 
under  Ezzelino  by  having  I  hree  of  I  beir  male  members 
suffer  death,  and  Mastino  mount  to  favor  and  power 
in  order  to  save  his  own  skin.  They  were  not  extremely 
1  See  chapter  on  Vicensa* 


S84  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

wealthy,  like  the  Medici,  but  climbed  far  more  quickly 
to  absolute  sway  through  their  abilities  as  warriors 
and  rulers.  The  first  five  of  them,  with  the  exception 
of  Alboino,  were  remarkable  conquerors  and  states- 
men, adored  by  the  people;  they  made  Verona  once 
more  the  capital  of  a  great  state,  the  first  power  and 
city  of  northern  Italy,  and  bestowed  upon  her  a  pro- 
sperity, a  beauty,  and  a  height  of  culture  which  she 
had  not  seen  since  the  days  of  Theodoric.  Their  re- 
maining six  rulers  were  ever  more  decadent  tyrants, 
who  lost  all  that  their  predecessors  had  gained,  reduced 
the  people  to  misery,  and  exterminated  themselves  by 
a  process  of  fratricide  such  as  the  horrified  world  had 
never  beheld  before.  Their  descent  was  as  rapid  and 
catastrophic  as  their  ascent  had  been  proud  and  glori- 
ous, and  their  whole  course  was  run  in  the  short  period 
of  one  hundred  and  twenty-eight  years. 

Mastino  the  founder  was  but  podesta  and  capitano, 
—  an  honest,  kindly,  forceful  man,  who  did  not  at- 
tempt any  show  of  absolute  power.  He  quieted  the 
troubled  city,  exiled  the  agitators,  and  began  the  Scala 
kingdom  by  the  conquest  of  Mantua,  Pavia,  Piacenza, 
and  the  upper  valley  of  the  Adige.  In  1277  he  was 
unsuspectingly  murdered  by  unknown  parties  while 
walking  one  evening  near  his  palace  through  a  covered 
passage  called  the  "Volto  Barbara. "  Leaving  no  son, 
he  was  succeeded  in  authority  by  his  brother  Alberto, 
who  reigned  as  absolute  despot  until  1301.  Alberto 
not  only  strengthened  his  hold  upon  the  conquests  of 
.Mastino,  but  extended  his  sway  to  Reggio,  Parma, 
Vicenza,  Riva,  Castel  d'  Arco,  Este,  Feltre,  and  Bel- 
luno.  He  ruled  wisely,  consulted  the  welfare  and  hap- 
piness of  his  peoples,  and  began  that  series  of  princely 
buildings  which  constitute  the  beauty  of  the  Verona 
of  to-day. 


VERONA  LA  DEGNA  335 

Alberto  left  three  sons,  who  ruled  in  turn:  Barto- 
lommeo,  first,  for  a  few  years  until  his  death;  Alboino, 
also  for  but  a  few  years,  until  1311;  and  Can  Grande, 
the  greatest  Scala  of  them  all.  The  latter  two  in  fact 
reigned  together  until  Alboino's  death,  Can  Grande 
being  always  the  captain  and  real  master.  He  was  a 
prince  whose  preeminence  in  his  period  it  is  impossible 
to  overestimate.  After  Alboino's  decease  he  made 
himself  sole  ruler  of  the  greater  part  of  North  Italy,  — 
the  head  of  a  state  whose  size  and  power  dwarfed  to 
insignificance  the  territories  of  all  his  neighbors.  At 
war  he  was  a  consummate  genius,  the  foremost  of 
his  time,  extending  the  Scala  possessions  by  rapid 
campaigns  to  Padua,  Treviso,  Monselice,  Brescia, 
Modena,  Lucca,  Bassano,  and  Cividale,  until  his  king- 
dom stretched  from  the  far  eastern  end  of  the  Friulan 
Plain  and  the  Alpen  fastnesses  of  Cadore,  to  Milan 
and  Bergamo  upon  the  west,  and  the  stream  of  the 
Arno  beyond  the  Apennines. 

This  was  the  largest  state  that  medieval  North 
Italy  ever  saw,  —  with  the  exception  of  the  brief  con- 
quests of  Gian  Galeazzo  Visconti  fourscore  years 
later;  it  included  a  dozen  of  the  fairest  and  richest 
cities  of  the  peninsula,  and  yielded  to  its  sovereign 
the  vast  private  income  of  seven  hundred  thousand 
florins  in  gold,  which  was  surpassed  by  no  European 
potentate  save  the  King  of  France.  Can  Grande  be- 
came the  dazzling  cynosure  of  all  Western  eyes,  the 
leader  of  Italy;  and  his  capital,  Verona,  the  centre  to 
which  flowed  this  unceasing  stream  of  gold,  of  power, 
and  adulation,  became  the  glittering  hub  of  attraction 
to  the  world  of  literature,  art,  magnificence,  and 
courtly  life. 

For  Can  Grande  was  more  than  a  conqueror;  he 
was  a  dilettante,  a  lover  of  all  the  graces  and  accom- 


336  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

plishments,  drawing  around  him  the  greatest  minds 
and  artists  of  his  age.  In  the  Renaissance  and  the 
revolution  of  manners,  that  were  now  in  full  swing,  he 
played  a  leading  part.  The  Scala  love  of  building  was 
inherited  by  him,  and  he  urged  on  with  reckless  ex- 
penditure a  host  of  architects,  masons,  and  sculptors, 
gathered  from  every  side.  Giotto  came  to  Verona,  at 
his  solicitation,  and  started  her  school  of.painting  with 
a  series  of  works  now  vanished.  He  drew  to  his  Court, 
encouraged,  and  patronized  those  foremost  in  learning 
and  literature,  of  every  branch  and  land;  and  enter- 
tained handsomely  the  chief  exiles  of  all  other  states. 
His  violence  and  small  vices  were  overbalanced  by 
many  splendid  traits,  —  generosity,  integrity,  kindli- 
ness, consideration,  courtesy,  justice,  all  in  a  large  de- 
gree, —  with  a  loftiness  and  grandeur  of  soul  far  above 
his  day. 

His  tremendous  thirst  for  glory  was  remarkably 
commingled  with,  and  tempered  by,  a  love  of  his  city 
and  country,  and  desires  for  the  welfare  of  the  people. 
High  as  he  had  climbed,  his  ambitious  spirit  yearned 
higher  still.  He  had  become  the  dominant  leader  of 
all  the  Ghibellines,  and  they,  adoring  his  magnanim- 
ity, looked  to  him  as  the  long-awaited  savior  of  Italy; 
in  their  hopes,  as  in  his  own,  he  was  to  reconquer  the 
whole  peninsula  for  the  Imperial  cause,  and  rule  the 
united  kingdom  as  the  Emperor's  vicar.  This  position 
for  North  Italy  had  already  been  conferred  upon  him 
by  Henry  VII. 

These  ambitions  and  hopes  are  set  forth  in  the 
writings  of  Dante,  —  the  most  illustrious  of  all 
the  exiles  and  literati  whom  Can  Grande  entertained 
at  Verona.  Dante  lingered  long  with  him,  and  with 
his  brothers  before  him,  at  their  palaces  in  the  city 
and  castles  roundabout,  forming  one  of  that  renowned 


VERONA  LA  DEGNA  337 

courtly  circle,  highly  honored  by  his  royal  hosts,  and 
himself  highly  esteeming  the  conqueror,  —  to  whom 
he  dedicated  his  Paradiso.  What  he  looked  to  Can 
Grande  to  accomplish  is  shown  in  the  oft-quoted  pas- 
sage of  the  Itifertio,  canto  I,  where  the  latter  is  clearly 
indicated  by  the  "greyhound"  (veltro)  who  was  to 
come  and  destroy  the  papal  wolf,  and  reunite  Italy 
under  the  Imperial  sway.  Dante  afterwards  fell  out 
with  Can  Grande,  and  left  his  Court  for  good.  Nor  did 
the  latter  live  to  fulfill  any  of  the  greater  hopes  enter- 
tained; for,  like  his  brothers  and  all  succeeding  Sca- 
ligers,  who  seemed  to  have  but  weak  constitutions,  he 
died  before  he  was  forty,  suddenly,  at  Treviso,  in 
1329.  And  his  empire  fell  to  pieces  as  quickly  as  it  had 
been  made. 

It  was  in  the  reign  of  Alboino,  just  preceding  Can 
Grande,  that  Shakespeare  placed  his  tragedy  of  Romeo 
and  Juliet;  although,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  Montecchi 
and  Capelletti  had  ended  their  high  positions  and 
enmity  long  before.  The  whole  story  of  the  lovers  is 
doubtless  equally  unreal,  having  its  source  in  one  of 
the  tales  of  the  cinquecento  romancer,  Luigi  di  Porto; 
though  there  are  not  wanting  people  who  claim  that 
such  persons  really  existed,  and  were  buried  together 
in  the  sarcophagus  which  was  long  pointed  out  in  the 
old  Capuchin  cemetery. 

Can  Grande  left  no  sons,  and  the  inheritance  of  his 
great  state  fell  into  the  incapable  hands  of  Mastino 
II,  the  elder  son  of  Alboino.  This  prince  had  the  con- 
queror's ambition  without  his  ability  or  depth  of 
soul.  Instead  of  consolidating  the  loosely  hung  terri- 
tories, like  a  man  of  sense,  lie  quickly  alarmed  the 
neighboring  powers,  already  envious,  by  his  prepara- 
tions for  further  conquests.  Venice,  Florence,  Milan, 
Ferrara,  and   Mantua  promptly  leagued   themselves 


338  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 


together  to  avert  this  danger,  attacked  the  tyrant 
unitedly,  and  despoiled  him  of  everything  except 
Verona  and  Yicenza.  It  was  he  who  commenced  the 
nn paralleled  system  of  fratricide  of  his  house,  by 
killing  Bishop  Bartolommeo  della  Scala  with  his 
own  hand.  In  him  began  the  degeneration  of  the  stock; 
which  was  grafted  into  the  Visconti  by  the  marriage 
of  his  daughter  Caterina  to  Barnabo  of  that  family, 
—  a  fact  of  interest,  because  from  her  Milan's 
world-renowned  opera-house  received  its  name,  "La 
Scala." 

Upon  Mastino's  death  in  1351,  the  throne  of  Ve- 
rona again  fell  to  three  brothers,  his  legitimate  sons, 
who  were  as  weak  and  criminal  as  the  former  trio  had 
been  strong  and  noble.  Can  Grande  II,  the  eldest, 
ruled  till  1359;  Cansignorio,  the  second,  followed  him 
for  sixteen  years;  and  Paolo  Alboino,  the  youngest, 
shared  the  power  for  a  while  in  name  only.  There  were 
also  a  number  of  illegitimate  brothers,  including  Freg- 
nano,  who  had  some  character  and  ability.  He  was 
loved  by  the  people,  and  headed  them  in  a  revolt 
against  the  tyranny  of  Can  Grande  II,  when  the 
latter  had  driven  them  to  desperation  with  his  im- 
positions. It  was  perhaps  unfortunate  that  Fregnano 
did  not  succeed;  but  Can  Grande  slew  him  on  the 
Ponte  delle  Navi,  and  dispersed  the  mob. 

The  result  was  the  despot's  erection  of  that  fortress 
on  the  bank  of  the  Adige  now  called  the  Castel  Vecchio, 
or  Castle  of  the  Scaligers,  with  its  strange,  picturesque, 
Gothic  bridge  crowned  by  forked  battlements;  and 
there  he  shut  himself  up  from  the  danger  of  rebellion, 
holding  the  bridge  to  receive  aid  from  his  brother-in- 
law,  the  Marquis  of  Brandenburg,  up  the  valley,  in 
case  of  another  rising.  Death  soon  caught  him, 
however,  by  an  insidious,  treacherous  hand  more  base 


VERONA  LA  DEGNA  339 

than  himself,  more  dangerous  than  the  people,  —  a 
hand  which  should  have  been  extended  to  defend  him, 
which  penetrated  all  bars,  and  proved  itself  the  vilest 
of  all  murderers.    It  was  Cansignorio. 

This  inhuman  monster  killed  his  brother  with  his 
own  dagger,  and,  mounting  the  throne,  deprived  the 
latter's  three  sons  of  their  inheritance.  With  that 
inconsistency  so  characteristic  of  medieval  Italians, 
however,  once  firmly  seated,  he  devoted  himself  to 
the  embellishment  of  the  city  and  the  welfare  of  the 
people.  Such  a  queer  compound  is  little  to  be  under- 
stood to-day,  —  but  he  certainly  did  much  for  Verona; 
among  other  things,  the  public  gardens  near  the 
Scaliger  palaces  were  opened,  the  Ponte  delle  Navi 
was  rebuilt  in  a  grander  form,  painting  was  encour- 
aged by  abundant  frescoing  in  his  own  and  other 
noble  houses,  and  marble  monuments  and  statues  were 
scattered  richly  through  the  town.  His  chief  good 
work  was  the  aqueduct  bringing  potable  water  to  the 
city,  which  still  spouts  forth  from  the  handsome  foun- 
tain that  he  placed  in  the  central  piazza.  He  built 
himself  a  Gothic  tomb  far  surpassing  those  of  his  pre- 
decessors, so  large  and  sumptuous  that  it  is  evident 
he  intended  it  to  secure  him  a  posthumous  fame. 

Throughout  his  day  Cansignorio  was  very  pious  and 
devout;  —  what  a  commentary  upon  the  failure  of  a 
faith  which  teaches  that  salvation  is  earned  by  pro- 
fessions alone.  He  had  no  sons  except  two  of  illegit- 
imate birth,  Bartolommeo  II  and  Antonio;  and  to 
insure  their  inheritance  of  the  throne,  lie  crowned  his 
devotions  and  good  deeds  by  anol  her  deliberate  fratri- 
cide, the  murder  of  poor  Paolo  Alboino,  long  con- 
fined in  prison  walls.  Then  he  died  contented,  in  1375, 
and  his  sons  took  his  seal  together. 

Bartolommeo,  the  elder,  w;is  by  far  the  better  of 


340  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF   ITALY 

the  two,  and  for  six  years  administered  the  two  cities 
irith  considerable  justice.  But  the  course  of  degenera- 
tion was  not  yet  run  out.  Bartolommeo  had  fallen  in 
love  with  a  lair  daughter  of  the  Nogarola  family,  who 
had  another  suitor  in  a  son  of  the  Malaspina;  Antonio 
slew  his  brother,  sleeping  on  his  bed,  with  the  aid  of 
hired  bravos,  and  deposited  the  corpse  at  night-time 
in  the  street  before  the  Nogarola  mansion.  Next  day, 
with  its  discovery,  Antonio  accused  Malaspina  of  the 
bloody  deed,  and  arrested  him,  together  with  the 
Nogarola  girl  and  her  father,  declaring  the  latter  to 
have  been  its  instigators.  All  three  were  put  to  hor- 
rible tortures  in  the  hopes  of  forcing  a  feigned  con- 
fession; they  disappointed  the  fratricide  by  asserting 
their  innocence  until  death  ended  their  sufferings. 
That  turned  the  accusations  of  the  people  upon  the 
true  murderer.  He  endeavored  to  dissipate  them  by 
a  wronderful  fete. 

Antonio's  betrothed  bride,  the  celebrated  Samari- 
tana,  beautiful  but  heartless  daughter  of  the  despot 
of  Ravenna,  arrived  shortly  after  this  with  a  jeweled 
cavalcade,  and  the  lord  of  Verona  seized  the  opportun- 
ity  to  make  a  festivity  such  as  even  those  pageant- 
loving  ages  seldom  saw.  There  were  processions  of 
thousands  of  silk-clad,  begemmed  nobles,  with  at- 
tendants, pages,  musicians,  heralds,  in  every  sort  of 
extravagant  costume,  and  banners,  flags,  canopies, 
with  showers  of  gold,  silver  and  sweetmeats,  through 
which  Samaritana  rode  a  white  horse  like  a  glistening 
fairy.  The  ancient  Arena  witnessed  the  strangest 
scenes  of  its  bloody  history;  the  same  glittering  court- 
iers and  maidens  acted  for  the  gathered  populace 
jousts  and  plays,  including  the  siege  of  a  "castle 
of  love"  erected  in  the  centre,  which  was  defended 
by  girls  raining  sweets  and  flowers,  and  captured  by 


o 


o 

Ed 

S 

-,: 


si 

- 


a 


VERONA  LA  DEGNA  341 

swains.  These  entertainments  lasted  for  twenty-seven 
consecutive  days;  and  their  expense  was  so  vast,  to- 
gether with  the  follies  which  Samaritana  began  soon 
to  commit,  that  Antonio  found  his  exchequer  denuded 
when  Milan  and  Padua  stood  suddenly  hostile  before 
him. 

Stripped  and  friendless  by  his  own  deeds,  he  could 
put  up  no  effectual  defense  against  the  Carrarese 
troops  led  by  the  great  English  condottiere,  Sir  John 
Hawkwood;  and  on  the  night  of  November  18,  1387, 
the  last  of  the  Scaligers  stole  secretly  and  alone  from 
the  palaces  and  the  city  where  his  ancestors  had  so 
brilliantly  reigned.  The  Visconti  immediately  oc- 
cupied Verona,  while  the  Carrara  seized  Vicenza.  The 
Visconti  chief  at  this  time  was  the  renowned  Gian 
Galeazzo,  who  was  engaged  in  building  up  his  wide- 
spread state.  He  extended  Verona's  outer  wall  across 
the  peninsula,  rebuilt  the  fortresses  upon  the  hilltops, 
and  continued  the  construction  of  palatial  edifices. 
Verona  was  to  be  the  second  brightest  gem  in  the  Vis- 
conti crown;  but  his  death  in  1402  dissipated  all  those 
dreams.  Francesco  Carrara  at  once  took  the  city,  un- 
resisting, and  installed  in  the  princely  chair  Guglielmo, 
the  bastard  son  of  Can  Grande  II.  The  latter  died  so 
instantly,  within  twenty-four  hours,  that  it  cannot  be 
called  a  restoration;  and  the  cause  is  often  laid  at  the 
door  of  him  who  profited  by  it,  —  Carrara.  He  was 
proclaimed  lord  of  Verona;  —  and  Caterina,  Duchess 
Dowager  of  Milan,  called  the  Venetians  to  the  aid  of 
her  infant  sons. 

We  know  wlmi  followed:  the  Republic  extinguished 
the  house  of  Carrara  and  seized  its  territories,  while 
Ven.ua  Buffered  willingly  the  subjection  of  St.  Mark. 
Henceforth  there  was  peace  in  the  city,  though  some- 
times trouble  roundabout,  during  the  wars  of  Venice, 


842  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

when  condottieri  generals  had  to  be  paid,  to  keep 
them  outside  the  walls.  During  the  war  of  the  League 
of  Cambrai,  Verona,  released  like  the  rest  of  the  Vene- 
tian  towns  from  their  allegiance,  inclined  once  more 
to  the  Imperial  cause  which  she  had  so  long  repre- 
sented in  the  peninsula;  she  shut  her  gates  against 
the  distressed  Venetian  army  retreating  from  its  de- 
feat at  Ghiaradadda,  solemnly  re-tendered  her  sub- 
jection to  the  Emperor,  Maximilian  I,  and  received 
him  in  her  midst  in  1509,  with  much  eclat.  At  the  end 
of  the  war,  in  1517,  she  was  restored  to  Venice;  and 
in  the  meantime  had  suffered  so  extremely  from  Ger- 
man rapacity,  extortion,  and  bloodthirstiness,  that  her 
people  were  forever  cured  of  their  Ghibelline  prefer- 
ences. Such  rejoicings  were  never  again  seen  as  when 
they  returned  to  the  benevolent  rule  of  St.  Mark. 
The  saint's  marble  Lions  were  brought  out  from  their 
hiding-places,  and  reerected  with  songs  of  joy. 

Then  it  was  that  the  Republic  constructed  those 
formidable  fortifications  around  the  city  which  be- 
came the  wonder  of  their  time;  nothing  like  them  is 
even  yet  to  be  seen  in  Europe.  Verona,  now  of  only 
eighty  thousand  inhabitants,  was  then  doubtless  the 
habitat  of  at  least  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand, 
as  evidenced  by  her  wide  extent.  Venice  was  determ- 
ined never  to  lose  the  marble  city  again,  and  she  did 
not,  until  she  fell  herself.  The  renowned  Veronese 
architect,  Michele  Sammicheli,  foremost  of  his  age  in 
that  profession,  built  those  miles  of  gigantic  stone  walls, 
with  their  tremendous  bastions,  sallyports,  scarps  and 
counterscarps,  with  mountainous  embankments,  and 
a  moat  like  a  deep  broad  river;  and  in  them  he  con- 
structed five  new  and  ornamental  gates,  whose  beauti- 
ful Renaissance  archways  still  span  the  tides  of  travel. 

No  trouble  now  for  nearly  three  centuries  marred 


VERONA  LA  DEGNA  343 

the  city's  steady  prosperity,  beyond  another  visitation 
in  1630  of  that  most  terrible  of  all  enemies,  the  plague, 
which  had  already  fiercely  attacked  her  on  half  a  dozen 
or  more  occasions.  This  time  it  reduced  her  popula- 
tion to  the  pitiful  figure  of  only  twenty  thousand; 
but  in  a  few  years,  with  Italy's  unending  prolificness, 
the  streets  were  again  re-peopled.  Toward  the  end 
of  the  Republic,  Verona  for  a  time  afforded  an  asylum 
to  the  French  Pretender,  afterwards  Louis  XVIII,  who 
was  duly  sent  away  in  consequence  of  representations 
from  the  Directory;  but  when  Bonaparte  arrived  upon 
the  plain  with  his  army,  he  used  the  fact  of  that  asylum 
as  a  pretext  for  occupying  the  city.  On  the  night  of 
April  17,  1797,  occurred  that  bloody,  desperate  up- 
rising against  the  French  which  is  known  as  the 
"Veronese  Vespers";  it  was  a  frightful  massacre, 
which  continued  for  three  whole  days,  with  resistance 
to  the  troops  advancing  to  the  garrison's  aid;  but  the 
result  was  only  a  firmer  hold  and  worse  exactions  by 
Napoleon. 

From  the  Peace  of  Luneville,  in  1800,  the  city  was 
curiously  divided  between  the  French  and  Austrians, 
until  1805,  —  the  right  bank  of  the  Adige  being  French 
territory  and  the  left  Austrian;  then  it  was  entirely 
French  till  1814,  and  after  the  latter  date,  entirely 
Austrian  until  1866.  During  the  last-named  period, 
Verona  became  the  chief  stronghold  of  the  foreign 
yoke,  the  foremost  member  of  the  celebrated  Quadri- 
lateral. In  the  final  war  of  1866,  the  second  disas- 
trous battle  of  Custozza  was  fought,  close  without  the 
city,  the  people  listening  to  the  thunder  of  the  cannon 
with  anxious  hearts;  and  with  its  close  came  a  long, 
harrowing  line  of  Italian  prisoners  and  wounded,  who 
were  confined  in  the  great  Arena  as  a  prison.  But  the 
long    awaited    freedom   soon   arrived;  the  Austrians 


344  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

retreated,  and  in  November  of  that  same  year  Victor 
Emmanuel  made  his  triumphal  entry  into  the  city 
amidst  the  tears  of  the  welcoming  populace. 

Verona's  history  in  art  and  letters  has  been  as  dis- 
tinctive and  proud  as  her  political  position.  Among 
her  early,  native-born,  great  writers  were  Catullus, 
/Emilius  Macer,  Pomponius  Secundus,  and  the  elder 
Pliny;  her  private  palaces  have  always  been  celebrated 
for  their  libraries,  and  her  University  has  been  pro- 
minent ever  since  its  foundation  by  the  sons  of  Charle- 
magne. In  recent  times  she  has  produced  Aleardi  the 
patriotic  poet,  Pompei,  Pindemonte,  and  Scipione 
Maffei  the  historian. 

But  especially  original  and  glorious  was  Verona's 
school  of  painting,  which  developed  on  its  own  separ- 
ate lines  of  distinguished  beauty,  until  in  the  cinque- 
cento  it  gradually  merged  itself  with  the  school  of 
Venice.  So  uniquely  lovely  and  striking  are  its  accom- 
plishments, —  for  the  most  part  to  be  seen  only  at 
Verona  herself,  —  that  he  who  has  not  beheld  them 
can  form  no  proper  idea  of  the  full  powers  of  Italian 
art.  Can  Grande  originated  Veronese  painting  by 
bringing  Giotto  to  the  city;  and  Giotto  left  behind 
there  a  pupil  who  became  the  true  founder  of  its  school. 
This  was  Altichieri,  whose  chief  remaining  works,s 
however,  are  at  Padua.  He  and  D'  Avanzo  struck  off 
a  little  from  Giotto's  line,  and  left  the  diverging  path 
for  their  successors.  Martini  of  Verona  worked  in  their 
time,  and  Pisanello  (1380-1451),  the  great  medalist, 
followed  them;  the  latter  labored  mostly  at  his  won- 
derful medallions,  but  executed  in  his  city  some  fres- 
coes also,  of  the  very  first  rank  for  their  period .  Others 
were  painted  by  him  in  the  Doges'  Palace.  He  was  the 
first  artist  to  be  renowned  for  his  careful  reproduc- 
tions of  animal  life. 


VERONA  LA  DEGNA  345 

Pisanello  left  behind  him,  amongst  other  pupils, 
three  that  became  prominent  quattrocento  artists,  — 
Stefano  da  Zevio,  and  Francesco  and  Girolamo 
Benaglio.  In  the  next  generation,  at  the  end  of  the 
quattrocento,  uprose  the  greatest  Veronese  of  them  all : 
Liberale,  Girolamo  dai  Libri,  Francesco  Morone,  and 
Paolo  Morando  or  Cavazzola.  This  was  the  quartette 
that  immortalized  the  school.  Working  well  into  the 
cinquecento,  at  the  very  height  of  the  Renaissance, 
filled  with  religious  feeling  and  an  extraordinary  love 
of  grace  and  coloring,  they  turned  out  those  scores  of 
canvases  that  blaze  from  the  churches  and  palaces 
of  Verona,  with  a  gorgeous  beauty  quite  astounding 
to  the  stranger. 

Most  of  these  men  had  been  bred  as  miniaturists, 
which  work  was  greatly  practiced  here,  and  so  had 
developed  that  painstaking  minuteness  which  gives 
to  their  work  a  perfection  of  finish,  a  careful  loveliness 
of  every  slightest  detail,  seen  nowhere  else,  and  makes 
it  more  enjoyable  than  can  be  expressed.  They  de- 
voted themselves  to  pietistic  tableaux,  in  which  they 
expressed  profound  religious  happiness,  and  which 
they  set  forth  with  a  nicety  of  drawing  and  grouping, 
a  celestial  grace,  and  a  glory  of  coloring  quite  Oriental 
in  its  rich  harmonies.  The  works  of  Girolamo  dai  Libri 
were  especially  unparalleled  for  their  wondrous  love- 
liness,—  those  of  Morone  for  their  power  and  depth 
also;  they  all  developed  a  depth  of  pious  sentiment 
considerably  beyond  that  of  other  schools. 

Liberale,  the  most  advanced  and  far-seeing  of  his 
associates,  left  for  the  second  generation  of  the  cinque- 
centists  some  pupils  of  genius  that  formed  another 
remarkable  quartette,  —  Caroto,  Bonsignori,  Torbido, 
and  Domenico  del  Riccio,  called  Brusasorci.  Of  these 
Caroto  was  the  greatest,  having  a  most  unique  and 


:u<;  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

effective  gracefulness,  and  much  force;  Torbido  devel- 
oped a  style  very  much  like  Giorgione's;  Bonsignori 
was  a  renowned  portrait  painter;  and  Brusasorci  ad- 
vanced beyond  them  all  into  the  free  field  of  the  later 
Renaissance,  discarding  all  precedents,  working  with  an 
originality  and  power  of  genius  worthy  of  the  deepest 
study.  Liberale's  other  pupils,  Falconetto,  and  Paolo 
and  Niccolo  Giolfino,  as  well  as  Farinata  and  Antonio 
Badile,  who  were  influenced  by  him,  were  able  artists 
of  the  same  period  without  the  fire  of  genius,  but  who 
nevertheless  produced  some  occasional  striking  pieces. 
Badile  was  the  uncle  and  teacher  of  the  great  man  who 
ended  the  long  list,  —  who  became  a  thorough  Vene- 
tian, and  yet,  by  reason  of  being  named  after  his  native 
city,  has  represented  it  more  to  the  general  world  than 
all  his  predecessors:  this  was  Paolo  Veronese  (sur- 
named  Cagliari),  —  and  with  him  the  glorious  school  of 
Verona  passed  away. 

On  the  last  leg  of  my  journey  from  Vicenza  to 
Verona,  I  passed  through  scenery  that  had  close  con- 
nections with  this  history.  The  route  for  the  first  half 
of  the  way  lay  southwesterly,  along  the  narrow  vale 
between  the  Monti  Berici  and  the  Alpen  foothills, 
whose  rounded  slopes  glistened  with  far-off  villages 
and  ancient  castles  peeping  from  the  woods.  A  more 
beautiful  valley  could  hardly  be  conceived.  About  a 
third  of  the  distance  through  it,  perched  high  upon  the 
shoulder  of  a  near  eminence  on  the  right,  the  ruined 
towers  of  the  medieval  stronghold  of  the  Montecchi 
were  seen,  with  the  clustering  white  walls  of  the  village 
bearing  their  name,  —  Montecchio.  This  was  one  of 
the  largest  and  richest  castles  of  North  Italy  in  those 
days  when  Romeo  made  love  to  Juliet;  and  to  it  as  an 
impregnable  fortress  the  family  and  their  retainers 


VERONA  LA  DEGNA  347 

would  retire,  whenever  worsted  in  their  struggles  in 
Verona.  To-day  it  is  but  an  empty  shell,  though  still 
picturesque  and  formidable  from  afar. 

At  Montebello,  two  thirds  of  the  way  through,  a 
later  country-place  was  passed,  —  the  splendid  villa 
of  the  Conti  Arrighi;  and  when  we  emerged  upon  the 
wide  plain  again,  and  turning  westward,  stopped  at 
the  town  of  San  Bonifacio,  only  three  miles  to  the 
south  of  us  lay  the  village  where  Napoleon  in  1796 
gained  his  momentous  victory  of  Arcole;  and  only  two 
miles  to  the  north,  frowning  in  plain  view  from  its  hill- 
top, sat  the  important  Scala  castle  of  Soave,  to  which 
the  Court  so  often  retreated,  and  where  Dante  enjoyed 
himself  in  its  illustrious  company.  Then  we  passed  the 
little  town  of  Caldiero,  lying  where  the  valley  of  the 
Illasi  debouches  upon  the  plain;  and  looking  up  its 
long  straight  defile,  I  fancied  I  could  discern  at  least 
one  of  those  two  other  famous  castles  of  the  Scaligers 
that  guarded  it  of  old,  —  Illasi  and  Tregnano.  All 
around  Verona  thus  they  sat,  those  strongholds  of 
the  tyrants,  on  both  sides  of  the  Adige,  dominating 
the  vales  of  the  mountains,  and  glowering  over  the 
plain. 

Soon  we  rumbled  into  the  huge  covered  station  of 
Verona,  and,  separating  myself  as  soon  as  possible 
from  the  flowing  crowd,  I  took  a  vettura  for  the  city. 
It  was  the  sunset  hour.  Up  a  wide,  tree-shaded  avenue 
to  the  imposing  stone  arch  of  the  Porta  Vescovo,  and 
along  the  Via  Venli  Settembre,  we  coursed,  through 
its  endless  throng  of  wagons,  carriages, and  tram  cars, 
between  its  modern-looking,  plastered  facades, — 
until  at  length  I  found  myself  once  more  rolling  over 
the  grand  arches  of  the  historic  Ponte  delle  Navi. 
Oner  .1  -r-i in  I  beheld  the  muddy,  whirling  waters  of  the 
Adige,  the  great  stone  quays,  crowned  with  stately 


848  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

boulevards,  and  the  lovely  hillsides,  curving  round  from 

north  to  southeast,  gray  with  forests  of  olive  groves, 
and  topped  with  bastioned  citadels  glistening  in  the 
level  sun.  But  loveliest  of  all  was  the  rounded  height 
of  S.  Pietro,  blocking  the  end  of  the  river  vista,  rising 
steeply  with  gleaming  buildings,  tier  on  tier  from  the 
very  quay,  graced  still  above  these  by  a  row  of  tall 
black  cypresses  like  sentinels  on  guard,  and  crowned 
upon  its  summit  with  an  imposing  edifice  that  glowed 
golden  in  the  western  blaze.  It  was  the  latest  castle  of 
S.  Pietro,  constructed  by  the  Austrians  upon  the 
foundations  of  Theodoric  and  the  Romans,  —  a  long 
three-storied  edifice,  with  square,  towering  pavilions 
at  the  corners. 

I  thought  of  Theodoric  also,  and  all  the  stirring, 
eventful  history  of  these  shores,  as  I  lowered  my  eyes 
to  the  rushing  waters :  — 

Green  Adige,  't  was  thus  in  rapid  course 
And  powerful,  that  thou  didst  murmur  'neath 
The  Roman  bridges  sparkling  from  thy  stream 
Thine  ever-running  song  unto  the  sun, 
When  Odoacer,  giving  way  before 
The  onrush  of  Theodoric,  fell  back; 
And  'midst  the  bloody  rack  about  them  passed 
Into  this  fair  Verona,  blonde  and  straight 
Barbarian  women  in  their  chariots,  singing 
Songs  unto  Odin;  while  the  Italian  folk 
Gathered  about  their  Bishop  and  put  forth 
To  meet  the  Goths  the  supplicating  Cross.1 

And  this  same  stream  whose  waters  had  made  a 
city  great,  —  how  had  they  not  scourged  and  devas- 
tated it  through  all  the  centuries!  I  thought  of  the 
many  times  repeated  floods,  furious  and  resistless, 
which  it  had  poured  from  its  mountain-gorge  through 
the  level  streets,  and  far  and  wide  over  the  plain, 
throwing    down,    undermining,    drowning,    carrying 

1  M.  W.  Anna's  translation  of  Carducci. 


VERONA  LA  DEGNA  349 

away,  its  multitudinous  prey  of  human  beings  and 
their  works,  receding  at  last  only  to  leave  behind  its 
final  sting  of  pestilence.  In  589,  when  Duke  Antharis 
wedded  Theodolinda,  the  whole  city  and  countryside 
were  buried  fathoms  deep  in  such  an  avalanche  of 
waters,  with  such  a  terrible  destruction  of  lives,  build- 
ings, animals,  and  crops,  that  its  horror  remained  with 
the  people  for  long  ages  after.  Then  it  was  that  oc- 
curred the  strange  reputed  miracle  of  S.  Zeno,  — 
when  the  roaring  flood  refused  to  strike  those  sacred 
walls,  banked  itself  up,  and  rushed  divided  on.  Again 
and  again  the  Adige  repeated  its  pitiless  assaults,  — 
one  of  them,  as  late  as  1757,  leaving  the  city  almost  a 
depopulated  ruin.  But  to-day  modern  engineering 
has  hemmed  the  dangerous  torrent  into  those  mighty 
stone  embankments  that  I  saw  before  me,  and  the 
great  muraglioni  or  dikes  leading  across  the  plain; 
so  that  its  powers  of  destruction  are  forever  ended. 

As  we  came  off  the  bridge,  I  saw  facing  it  the  tall 
Gothic  apse  of  the  huge  brick  Church  of  S.  Fermo, 
one  of  Verona's  finest  edifices,  perpetuating  the  mem- 
ory of  her  sainted  martyr.  We  turned  at  a  right  angle 
into  the  long  straight  thoroughfare  leading  north- 
ward to  the  grand  Piazza  delle  Erbe,  at  the  very  centre 
of  the  town.  Roundabout  it  at  close  distances  lie  all 
the  chief  hotels;  and  for  several  hours,  well  into  the 
evening,  I  searched  through  them  for  the  best  accom- 
modations, a1  reasonable  rates,  for  a  prolonged  stay. 
With  some  I  was  acquainted  from  former  visits,  into 
the  others  I  made  close  investigation;  but  it  seemed 
thai  every  one  of  them  was  either  too  fancy  in  its 
prices,  too  antiquated  in  its  means,  too  dirty,  or  too 
poor  in  table.  Al  last,  just  when  I  was  about  giving 
it  up,  I  found  exactly  what  I  was  hunting  for:  a  thor- 
oughly   Italian    caravansary,    but    newly    furnished, 


350  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

immaculately  clean,  not  too  large  for  good  service  and 
luwnelikeness,  quiet,  centrally  located,  with  excellent 
cooking,  a  genial  host,  and  very  reasonable  rates.  It 
was  entitled  the  "Aquila  Nera,"  and  was  situated  in  a 
retired  spot  on  the  Via  Quattro  Spade,  a  little  west  of 
the  Piazza  Erbe,  with  its  rooms  overlooking  a  silent 
courtyard;  and  there  I  passed,  with  my  companions 
who  joined  me,  as  enjoyable  a  sojourn  as  Italy  has 
ever  given  me. 

Verona  is  too  vast,  her  sights  too  manifold,  to  be 
more  than  enumerated  within  the  limits  of  a  single 
chapter,  and  enumerated  without  a  word  of  descrip- 
tion. Those  who  wish  a  detailed  catalogue  or  guide 
will  find  it  in  the  pages  of  Baedeker  or  Murray,  or  bet- 
ter still,  within  the  covers  of  that  pleasant  little  vol- 
ume, Verona,  by  Alethea  Wiel,  of  the  series  of  Medieval 
Towns,  —  in  wThich  also  the  history  has  been  well  re- 
lated. I  have  neither  space  nor  desire  to  follow  use- 
lessly in  their  footsteps;  but  shall  transcribe  my  own 
rambles,  from  day  to  day,  endeavoring  through  them 
to  give  an  idea  of  the  general  plan  and  appearance  of 
the  historic  city,  of  her  principal  avenues,  piazzas, 
buildings,  and  monuments,  of  her  life  and  people,  and 
of  the  chief  masterpieces  of  painting,  showing  the 
characteristics  and  unique  powers  of  her  wonderful 
school. 


\  EKON  \.     CHURCH  Ol     31      W  ASTASIA. 


CHAPTER  X 

VERONA   LA   MARMORINA 

Still  westward  hold  thy  way,  till  Alps  look  down 
On  old  Verona's  walled  and  classic  town. 
Fair  is  the  prospect;  palace,  tower,  and  spire, 
And  blossomed  grove,  the  eye  might  well  admire. 

—  Nicholas  Mitchell. 

"In  Verona  the  gutters  are  of  marble.  The  ledge  you 
lean  upon,  the  flight  of  steps  going  up  outside  a  house, 
the  posts  which  block  a  street  against  the  wheels,  the 
fountain  in  the  market-place,  are  all  of  white  or  red 
marble.  Pillars  of  white  or  red  marble  hold  up  the 
overhanging  roofs  of  shops,  and  the  shopkeepers  paste 
their  advertisements  over  marble.  Every  street  has 
its  marble  doorway,  window,  or  balcony,  shaped  after 
a  fine  Renaissance  pattern  or  carved  with  beautiful 
ornament.  .  .  .  And  there  are  monsters  enough  in  red 
and  white  marble,  crouching  at  the  doors  of  churches, 
leaning  over  from  the  lintels,  and  carved  in  slabs  let 
into  the  walls  of  houses.  .  .  .  And  the  two'colors  of 
Veronese  marbles,  red  and  white,  are  repeated  in 
bricks,  in  pavements,  in  castles,  churches,  palaces,  and 
bridges;  till  at  sunset  the  whole  city  seems  to  flush 
with  ruddy  light."  1 

How  true  I  felt  this,  as  I  walked  once  more  the  en- 
deared and  fascinating  si  reels,  glowing  with  their 
wealth  of  rich  material  and  design,  teeming  with  their 
memories  of  pasl  glories  and  tragedies.  I  was  making 

my  way,  on  the  morning  after  my  arrival,  to  the  near 
Piazza   Erbe,    the   centre  of   the   city    and    its    life. 

1  Arthur  Symons,  Cities  <>f  Italy. 


85S  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF   ITALY 

The  great  Arena,  standing  farther  to  the  southwest, 
at  about  the  middle  of  the  Visconti  wall  inclosing  the 
peninsula,  is  surrounded  by  another  large  piazza,  an 
immense  one,  named  recently  after  Vittorio  Eman- 
uele,  but  still  generally  known  by  its  old  appellation 
of  Piazza  Bra.  That  is  second  in  importance,  —  lighted 
at  night  by  the  blazing  windows  of  caffes,  thronged 
with  tables  and  moving  people  resounding  with  the 
music  of  the  garrison's  band;  and  from  its  northeastern 
angle  runs  a  narrow  street  called  Via  Nuova,  directly 
to  the  southern  end  of  Piazza  Erbe.  This  street  is  the 
town's  principal  promenade  and  shopping-centre,  its 
asphalt  pavement  being  denied  to  vehicles,  and  given 
up  entirely  to  the  endless  crowds  of  pedestrians; 
through  it  I  was  now  proceeding,  threading  the  lively 
groups,  looking  into  the  bright  little  shops  that 
make  the  slender  way  strangely  like  to  the  Venetian 
Merceria. 

Then  I  stood  at  the  southern  end  of  Piazza  Erbe, 
gazing  up  its  long  and  wonderfully  picturesque  vista, 
framed  by  fine,  old,  four-storied  buildings  with  their 
traces  of  nearly  vanished  frescoes,  crowded  with  its 
hundreds  of  large,  white  umbrellas  over  market- 
stalls,  adorned  with  its  ancient  monuments  that  bear 
such  memories  of  the  pulsating  past;  and  I  felt  those 
memories  surge  up  within  me  like  a  storm.  Few 
piazzas  in  all  Italy  can  compare  with  this  one.  Of  it 
the  enraptured  Dickens  said,  "It  is  so  fanciful,  quaint, 
and  picturesque  a  place,  formed  by  such  an  extraor- 
dinary and  rich  variety  of  fantastic  buildings,  that 
there  could  be  nothing  better  at  the  core  of  even  this 
romantic  towri."1  Its  shape  is  peculiar,  —  the  length 
from  north  to  south  being  perhaps  four  times  the 
breadth,  and  the  western  side  curving  gently  in  a  broad 

1  Pictures  from  Italy. 


VERONA  LA  MARMORINA  353 

arc.  In  the  middle  of  that  side  I  saw  the  delightful, 
Gothic  Casa  dei  Mercanti  rising  on  its  heavy  arcade, 
dating  as  far  back  as  1301,  designed  by  Alberto  della 
Scala  for  the  merchants'  guilds,  but  latterly  used  for 
the  commercial  courts.  It  was  really  more  Romanesque 
than  Gothic,  being  of  the  transition  period:  its  brick 
arches  were  rounded,  with  alternate  red  and  white 
voussoirs,  supported  by  heavy  marble  columns;  and 
the  upper  windows  had  charming  double  lights,  sepa- 
rated by  coupled,  slender  shafts,  —  while  battlements 
crowned  the  roof.  The  rest  of  the  buildings  on  that 
side  were  private  houses,  once  occupied  by  noble  fam- 
ilies; and  the  last  few  facades  still  glowed  with  linger- 
ing portions  of  paintings,  by  Liberali  and  Girolamo 
dai  Libri,  well  enough  preserved  to  show  how  very 
lovelv  thev  must  once  have  been. 

t. 

Opposite,  in  the  centre  of  the  right  side,  rose  the 
simple  stuccoed  facade  of  the  old  Palazzo  della  Ra- 
gione,  or  city  hall,  surmounted  to  a  tremendous  height 
by  the  imposing  municipal  clock-  and  bell-tower, 
called  the  Torre  Lambert  i,  which  was  constructed  in 
1172,  —  according  to  the  local  story,  by  the  family  of 
that  name.  It  was  of  brick,  square  in  shape  till  near 
the  top,  where  it  ended  in  an  octagonal  belfry;  huge 
clock-faces  adorned  it  more  than  halfway  up;  then 
came  a  beautiful,  triple,  Gothic  window  on  each  side, 
with  marble  shafts  and  red-and-white  brick  arches; 
and  each  side  of  the  belfry  bore  ;i  similar,  double  win- 
dow, long  and  narrow,  leaving  the  great  bells  swinging 
visibly  in  I  li<-  open  air. 

At  the  end    of    the  same  side   \  saw  the  Casa   dei 

Mazzanti,  where  Alberto  della  Scala  was  living  when 

he  founded  the  Mercanli,  its  lofty  wall-spaces  covered 

with  enormous  painted  figures  of  gods  and  goddesses, 

nude  forms  of  reddish  brown,  —  Venus  and  Cupids, 


354  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

and  Titans  struggling,  —  and  at  the  very  angle  a 
hideous  Assumption  of  the  Virgin.  The  end  of  the 
vista  was  blocked  by  a  striking  Renaissance  facade  of 
marble,  the  Palazzo  MatVei,  looking  down  over  the 
piazza  with  its  row  of  marble  statues  crowning  the 
cornice;  and  immediately  on  its  left  soared  the  bell- 
tower  built  byCansignoriowhen  headorned  thepiazza. 
I  lowered  my  eyes  to  the  pavement  of  the  square, — 
practically  hidden  by  the  crowd  of  canvas  toadstools, 
and  the  congested  throngs  of  people  that  pushed  and 
trafficked  among  the  booths,  —  and  noticed  again 
with  pleasure  the  fine  old  monuments  that  raised  their 
heads  in  dignity.  They  stretched  along  the  centre  line 
at  regular  intervals,  lending  history  to  the  scene.  The 
first,  at  the  south  end,  was  the  ancient  Gothic  market- 
cross,  of  red  marble;  farther  on  rose  a  canopy  supported 
by  four  marble  pillars,  elevated  upon  three  steps, 
and  terminating  in  a  point  and  ball,  —  the  so-called 
Tribuna,  of  1207,  from  which  decrees  and  judgments 
were  given  for  centuries;  near  the  centre  sat  the  round 
fountain,  built,  according  to  tradition,  by  King  Pepin, 
or  Alboin,  but  first  put  to  its  present  use  by  Cansig- 
norio,  —  its  splashing  porphyry  basin  being  fed  from 
the  mouths  of  masks  about  the  central  pillar,  and 
the  pillar  surmounted  by  a  strange,  amusing  figure  of 
'Verona,"  antique  in  body,  badly  medieval  in  head, 
holding  a  tin  scroll  in  the  hands,  and  topped  by  a  tin 
crown;  while  at  the  northern  end  appeared  the  lovely 
Venetian  column,  of  gleaming  marble,  which  was 
reerected  with  such  joy  at  the  close  of  the  War  of 
Cambrai;  its  winged  Lion  was  displaced  in  1797, — 
when  "Bonaparte  addressed  a  manifesto  to  the  Doge, 
which  .  .  .  was  followed  by  a  decree  ordering  the  French 
Minister  to  leave  Venice,  .  .  .  and  the  Lion  of  St.  Mark 
to  be  pulled  down  in  all  the  continental  territories  of 


VERONA  LA  MARMORINA  355 

Venice";  !  —  the  first  reprisal  for  the  rebellion  against 
the  French  occupation.  But  it  was  put  up  once  more 
in  1888. 

The  busy  populace  filled  the  square  and  overflowed 
into  the  picturesque  arcades  in  the  first  stories  of  the 
surrounding  buildings,  underneath  which  were  shops 
and  caffes.  As  I  elbowed  through  the  crowd,  past 
the  monuments,  deafened  by  the  pandemonium  on 
every  side,  the  variegated  contents  of  the  stalls  fell 
under  my  eyes;  every  kind  of  produce  peculiar  to 
Italian  life  was  exposed  and  freely  handled,  —  all 
varieties  of  grains,  vegetables,  fruits  and  fowls,  pitiful 
little  slain  birds  by  the  hundred,  live  singing-birds 
in  cages,  mushrooms  and  other  fungi,  flowers,  plants, 
boots  and  clothing,  owls  and  eagles  attached  to  poles 
by  strings,  combs,  brushes,  and  other  articles  of  toilet 
and  the  household,  live  turtles  crawling  over  the 
stocks  of  goods,  —  in  a  word,  every  conceivable  kind 
of  ornamental  or  usable  thing,  and  all  mixed  together 
in  a  confusion  beyond  words.  I  thought  of  how  many 
ages  this  morning  traffic  had  so  continued,  —  from  the 
far-off  days  when  this  place  had  been  the  Forum  of  the 
Roman  city,  when  it  had  been  used  by  the  ancients  as 
a  circus  also,  and  resounded  with  the  rumble  of  racing 
chariol  -. 

I  gazed  at  the  western  walls,  still  keeping  the  oval 
shape  of  the  cirrus,  to  observe  more  closely  those 
extraordinary  outside  frescoes  thai  had  been  executed 
by  Verona's  two  greatest  artists,  (iirolamo's  consisted 
of  a  Madonna  with  two  saints,  and  a  group  of  saints 
or  apostles  above  them,  —  well  spaced,  composed, 
and  colored,  the  Child  still  very  lovely,  the  Madonna 
but  formerly  so;  they  wen-  altogether  much  superior 
to  any  exterior  painting  I  had  found  in  the  plain. 
1  Bourrienne,  M>  main  <>f  Napoleon  Honnparte. 


856  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Liberale's  work  was  not  so  pleasing:  a  Coronation 
of  tin-  \"ir.iz,in  in  antique  stylo,  and  below  it  a  group  of 
Adam  and  Eve,  —  two  heroic  naked  figures,  with  the 
woman-headed  serpent  between  them.  Roundabout 
were  still  also  visible  several  series  of  Cupids  and 
wreaths  and  rich  arabesques,  with  a  separate  figure  of 
an  ancient  warrior. 

Turning  back  a  little  now,  I  entered  the  passage  just 
to  the  left  of  the  Palazzo  Ragione,  topped  by  two  slen- 
der balustraded  arches,  the  second  holding  suspended 
by  a  rope  one  of  those  jawbones  of  whales,  or  ante- 
diluvian mammals,  which  exercise  such  a  curious  fasci- 
nation upon  the  Italian  imagination;  this  second  arch- 
way opened  into  the  famous  Piazza  dei  Signori,  one 
of  the  few  most  interesting  little  squares  of  Italy. 
Here  the  Scala  princes  had  reigned  and  built,  and  from 
them  it  had  received  its  name  and  beauty.  As  I  en- 
tered at  its  southwestern  angle,  on  my  right  immedi- 
ately was  the  handsome  side  of  the  Palazzo  Ragione, 
and  beyond  it,  across  an  archway,  the  Palazzo  della 
Tribunate ;  the  Prefettura  confronted  me  upon  the 
east,  the  Palazzo  dei  Giuriconsulti  rose  upon  the  west, 
and  upon  the  north  side,  glistening  like  a  colossal  gem, 
shone  the  wonderful  marbled  fagade  of  the  peerless 
Palazzo  del  Consiglio.  All  of  these  were  products  of  the 
Scala  genius  for  building.  Upon  the  last  three  sides, 
adjacent  to  the  said  palaces,  opened  other  passages 
of  similar  width;  but  one  and  all  were  covered  by  brick 
or  marble  arches  like  that  through  which  I  had  just 
entered,  and  two  were  surmounted  by  marble  statues; 
so  that  the  place  was  inclosed  in  a  complete  ring  of 
palatial  splendor,  —  quiet  and  deserted  compared 
with  the  noisy  Piazza  Erbe,  but  seeming  to  radiate 
-till  the  dignity  and  magnificence  of  the  court  of  the 
Scaligers. 


VERONA  LA  MARMORINA  357 

The  construction  of  the  Palazzo  Ragione  on  this 
side  was  like  the  Gothic  of  its  tower,  —  two  upper 
stories  of  alternate  courses  of  red  bricks  and  white 
marble,  with  some  splendid  triple  windows,  above  a 
ground  story  of  marble  arches;  at  its  eastern  end  was 
a  curious  Late-Renaissance  surfacing  of  dark-painted 
stucco,  two  stories  in  height  and  five  windows  wide, 
with  all  its  openings  beautifully  decorated  by  terra- 
cotta mouldings,  and  by  relieved  medallions  containing 
portrait-heads  of  the  Scala  princes.  An  archway  led  me 
into  its  majestic  courtyard,  around  three  sides  of  which 
ran  a  lofty  arcade,  of  stone  quoins  upon  heavy  stone 
pillars;  and  at  its  west  side  rose  a  grand  marble  stair- 
way of  the  quattrocento,  sustained  on  Gothic  arches, 
having  a  lovely  balustrade;  its  once  extended  upper 
landing  had  become  perilous,  and  been  mostly  re- 
moved. This  space  was  formerly  the  Mercato  Vecchio. 
It  commanded  an  impressive  view  of  the  great  muni- 
cipal tower  at  its  northwest  corner. 

Returning  to  the  Piazza  dei  Signori,  I  advanced  to 
the  neighboring  Palazzo  Tribunale;  it  had  a  heavy, 
red-brick  tower  at  its  nearest  angle,  which  contained 
little  strongly  barred  windows,  and  was  topped  by 
grim  forked  battlements;  —  a  veritable  donjon,  as 
it  had  proved  to  be  in  long-past  days  for  many  an 
enemy  of  the  Sealigers,  confined  in  it  by  the  latter 
without  charge  or  warning.  According  to  local  story 
the  whole  of  these  prisoners  were  once  murdered 
together,  their  number  running  from  fifty  to  four 
hundred,  according  to  the  authority. 

A  tablet    ia  the  palace  wall  slated   that   Cansignorio 

had  inhabited  it  from  IS59  to  L375, and  that  it  was  in 
the  sixteenth  century  remodeled  for  the  Venetian 
Podeetas.  M>  general  design  was  of  rich  Renaissance 
work,  with  an  entrance  arch  of  hue  proportions  and 


858  PLAIN  TOWNS   OF   ITALY 

Corinthian  grace,  and  an  extraordinary  long  balcony 
on  the  second  floor  supported  by  very  deep  marble  con- 
soles. In  its  large  courtyard,  one  side  bore  still  some 
Renaissance  frescoes  representing  a  whole  architect- 
ural scheme  in  great  detail,  with  an  angel  blowing  a 
trumpet  in  the  centre;  while  the  passage  out  from  its 
south  side  was  covered  with  a  most  unique  marble  arch- 
way of  the  decadent  period,  seemingly  constituted  of 
many  kinds  of  implements  of  war,  —  the  supporting 
columns  being  cannons  resting  upon  drums  for  bases, 
and  having  capitals  of  mortars  loaded  with  round  shot. 
The  west  side  of  the  court  was  a  quaint,  three-storied, 
brick  loggia,  restored  as  of  old,  upon  the  original  an- 
cient columns  and  supporting  Gothic  arches. 

Coming  out,  I  stopped  to  look  at  the  statue  of  Dante, 
facing  the  palace  from  the  centre  of  the  piazza,  exe- 
cuted by  Ugo  Zannoni  in  1865,  after  the  accepted  type; 
then  I  inspected  the  plain  Palazzo  Prefettura  on  the 
east,  which  was  originally  the  private  palace  of  Mas- 
tino  I,  built  by  him  in  1272,  and  inhabited  by  him  and 
his  successors.  This  was  the  residence  in  which  Giotto 
painted  at  Can  Grande's  order,  and  Altichieri  a  little 
later,--  in  which  Bartolommeo  I  received  Dante  upon 
the  poet's  first  arrival,  and  where  Dante  spent  many 
subsequent  days  and  months.  It  has  been  remodeled 
by  successive  rulers,  till  Mastino  would  not  recog- 
nize it  to-day.  The  original  fine  stone  arches  have 
been  built-in  and  plastered  over,  dismally;  but  I  could 
clearly  see  their  outlines  on  the  upper  stories,  as  well 
as  the  blocks  of  old  reliefs  that  have  been  defaced. 

Another  handsome  entrance-arch,  by  Sammicheli, 
admit  led  me  to  its  picturesque  court,  open  to  the 
north,  trained  on  the  south  and  west  sides  by  imposing 
stone  colonnades,  sustaining  brick,  or  brick  and  white 
stone,  arches;  the  alternate  heavy  pillars  and  columns, 


VERONA  LA  MARMORINA  359 

with  rough-leaved  capitals,  had  their  bases  two  feet 
underground,  showing  that  the  level  has  risen  that 
much  since  their  setting,  six  hundred  years  ago.  The 
upper  division  of  the  court's  western  fagade  was  re- 
centlv  restored,  with  a  close  imitation  of  the  medieval, 
red-and-white,  arched  windows,  with  their  handsome 
marble  railings.  All  this  red-and-white  work  is  a 
prominent  characteristic  of  old  Verona  architecture, 
particularly  the  Gothic,  being  apparently  —  as  has 
been  said  —  a  repetition  of  her  marble  hues;  it  is  de- 
lightfully effective,  whether  in  brick  alone,  or  brick 
with  marble  or  limestone,  and  becomes  endeared  to 
one's  heart  by  its  happy  repetitions. 

From  this  palace  I  crossed  to  that  of  the  Giuricon- 
sulti  opposite  on  the  west, — a  queer,  ponderous,  rococo 
structure,  built  in  1278,  and,  like  the  others,  remodeled 
in  the  cinquecento;  it  has  very  ugly  windows  in  its 
stuccoed  fagade,  —  made  unusual  by  a  two-storied, 
stone  entrance-arch,  as  high  as  those  guarding  the 
passages;  over  this  is  a  weird  construction  in  the  centre 
of  the  top  story,  consisting  of  four  Doric  pilasters  ris- 
ing from  a  balustrade  to  a  plain  pediment  surmounted 
by  dwarf  obelisks.  Atop  the  arch  crowning  the  pas- 
sage on  its  right,  I  observed  a  statue  of  the  historian, 
Scipione  Maffei;  and  just  behind  this,  in  the  north- 
west corner,  opened  a  dark,  narrow  courtyard  be- 
tween old  I  louses,  whose  centre  was  brightened  by  a 
most  lovely  Renaissance  well-top.  From  the  rear  side 
of  the  court,  a  low  arched  way  led  obscurely  under 
the  dwellings  to  the  Piazza  Erbe,  -the  "Volto  Bar- 
bara,"1 where  Maslino  I  was  killed  in  W77.  No  more 
fitting  spot  for  an  assassination  could  be  devised. 

I  returned  ;it  last  bo  the  gem  of  all  t lu»  Scala  build- 

1  So  called,  not  from  the  barbaric  deed  mentioned,  bul  from  the  former 
palace  >>f  the  Barbara  family,  which  was  adjacent. 


360  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

ings,  the  pride  of  Verona,  which  I  had  purposely  left 
until  the  end;  and  1  speak  truly  when  I  say  that  words 
can  give  little  conception  of  the  glorious  beauty  of  the 
Palazzo  del  Consiglio.  What  the  Basilica  Palladiana 
is  to  the  plain-towns  in  magnificence  and  majesty, 
this  unparalleled  structure  is  in  delicate, dainty  loveli- 
ness. Built  at  the  very  height  of  the  Renaissance,  by 
command  of  the  Republic  in  1497,  every  development 
and  artifice  of  the  science  of  classical  architecture  was 
utilized  for  its  success,  —  precious  marbles,  moulded 
terra-cotta,  painted  stucco,  and  sculpture,  being  deftly 
interwoven  into  a  scheme  of  color  that  makes  it  a  glow- 
ing mosaic,  a  softly  chromatic  lacework,  whose  unob- 
trusive tints  happily  accentuate  the  fairylike  design. 
Its  genius  is  that  of  Fra  Giocondo,  Verona's  great 
architect,  who  deserves  far  more  general  fame  than 
he  has  received;  besides  erecting  several  noted  build- 
ings in  Verona,  and  in  other  North  Italian  cities,  he 
assisted  in  the  construction  of  St.  Peter's,  and  labored 
brilliantly  for  eight  years  in  France  under  the  orders 
of  Louis  XII.1 

Designed  for  a  town  hall,  this  palace  has  the  inevit- 
able loggia  in  the  ground  floor,  faced  by  a  colonnade  of 
unsurpassable  delicacy  and  grace;  above  several  steps 
rises  a  dainty  balustrade,  from  which  spring  seven 
slender  marble  columns  with  Corinthian  capitals,  to 
uphold  lightly  moulded  arches;  in  the  upper  division 
are  four  delightful  double  windows,  framed  by  pilas- 
ters wrought  with  gilded  arabesques,  and  topped  by 
lunettes  containing  gilt,  relieved  designs;  under  them 
runs  a  painted  string-course  of  wreaths  and  flowers, 
from  win cli,  at  the  angles  and  between  the  windows, 
larger    stuccoed    pilasters,    arabesqued    and    prettily 

1  He  was  also  a  remarkable  engineer,  — as  is  evidenced  by  his  famous 
walls  of  Treviso,  already  described. 


VERONA  LA  MARMORIXA  361 

painted  in  gold,  rise  to  sustain  the  gilded  cornice; 
between  the  windows  and  pilasters  are  frescoed  pan- 
els, and  medallions  of  elegant  form;  while  five  marble 
statues  surmount  the  eaves. 

The  loggia  is  entirely  faced  with  gray  marble,  and 
studded  with  white  plaster  medallions  holding  heads 
of  illustrious  Veronese;  beside  the  doorway  in  its  rear 
wall  are  two  life-size  bronze  figures  by  Girolamo  Cam- 
pagna,  representing  the  Annunciation,  and  round- 
about, the  busts  of  other  natives.  The  fine  oaken  ceil- 
ing, heavily  beamed  and  paneled,  is  exceptionally  rich. 
I  found  the  caretaker  of  the  palace  in  the  adjacent 
Prefettura,  and  visited  the  princely  rooms  above  the 
loggia.  They  consist  of  a  splendid  central  salon,  now 
used  by  the  Provincial  Council,  and  two  smaller  cham- 
bers at  the  sides,  —  all  recently  redecorated  in  the 
original  style.  Especially  beautiful  are  the  doorways  of 
exquisite  Renaissance  design,  in  stone  or  gilded  wood, 
framed  by  pilasters  with  their  faces  carved  in  at- 
tractive arabesques;  also  the  magnificent  (inattroeento 
ceiling  of  the  salon,  elaborately  paneled,  sculptured, 
and  gilded.  The  council  chamber  also  contains  four 
large  striking  canvases  by  Paolo  Veronese,  of  much 
merit  and  beauty.  —  two  being  scenes  from  Verona's 
history,  and  two.  allegorical  tableaux  concerning  the 
city,  personified  as  ;i  woman;  the  strongest  is  that  of 
the  Roman  Emperor  receiving  Verona's  crown,  of  ex- 
ceeding grace  and  skillful  light  -effects.  Here  also 
are  some  damask  curtains,  ballot    boxes,  and  velvet 

chairs  from  the  adjacent  Scala  palace,  all  of  the  cinque- 
cento  or  earlier. 

In  the  afternoon  1  returned  to  this  piazza,  and  de- 
scended the  narrow  streel  leaving  it  at  the  southeasl 
corner,  to  the  near-by  Church  of  S.  Maria  Antica, — 
and  the  celebrated  tombs  of  the  Scaligera.  This  little 


362  PLAIN-TOWNS   OF   ITALY 

old  Gothic  edifice,  dating  from  the  eleventh  century, 
i->  where  the  princes  were  wont  to  worship,  and  in 
its  small  open  yard  they  sleep,  appropriately  near 
the  palaces  where  they  reigned.  The  church's  north- 
ern (or  left)  side  is  toward  the  street,  removed  a  dozen 
yards,  leaving  room  for  the  small  cemetery  between 
it  and  the  sidewalk.  The  inclosing  iron  grille,  rising 
from  a  red-marble  parapet  to  a  height  of  ten  feet, 
and  crowned  with  quaint  Gothic  statues,  bends  round 
to  the  wall  of  the  edifice  near  its  western  end,  leaving 
a  clear  approach  to  its  single  doorway  there  located. 

As  I  approached  the  spot,  I  saw  first  the  superb 
Gothic  monuments  of  Mastino  II  and  Cansignorio 
rising  behind  the  railing  at  the  outer  angles  of  the  in- 
closure,  and  soaring  far  into  the  air  with  their  pointed 
canopies  capped  by  statues;  then,  the  low  church  wall, 
of  red-and-white  courses,  pierced  only  by  the  entrance 
and  three  tiny  arched  windows;  and  lastly,  the  tomb 
of  the  great  Can  Grande,  rising  from  the  lintel  of  the 
doorway,  to  a  pyramidal  point  far  above  the  eaves. 
Topping  this  and  the  other  monuments  were  eques- 
trian figures,  in  marble,  like  all  of  the  work,  mailed 
cap-a-pie,  both  horses  and  men,  and  bearing  huge 
winged  helmets  against  the  blue.  No  scene  more 
picturesque,  or  significant  of  medieval  days,  could  be 
found  in  all  Italy.  So  exquisitely  charming  were  those 
open  masses  of  trefoil  arches,  pointed  pediments, 
statuettes,  and  crocketed  spires,  all  soaring  gracefully 
heavenward,  —  it  was  like  stumbling  upon  a  garden 
of  frozen  white  flowers,  with  the  many  fairies  flitting 
amongst  them  turned  to  stone. 

Can  Grande's  tomb  is  severe  and  strong,  befitting 
the  conqueror;  the  sarcophagus  is  carved  in  bas-relief 
with  scenes  from  his  life,  and  bears  two  statuettes,  but 
the  Gothic  arches  of  the  sheltering  canopy  are  un- 


VERONA  LA  MARMORIXA  363 

adorned,  and  the  pyramidal  spire  rising  from  its  roof 
has  but  a  few  crockets  at  the  angles.  Mastino's  mon- 
ument, at  the  northwest  angle  of  the  yard,  is  a  rich 
three-storied  structure,  —  its  first  two  divisions  rising 
bv  corner  columns  onlv;  the  second  contains  the  elab- 
orately  carved  sarcophagus,  with  the  decedent's  re- 
clining figure,  and  its  surrounding  arches,  with  their 
pediments,  are  heavily  decorated.  His  equestrian  fig- 
ure has  its  vizor  drawn;  and  the  popular  story  goes 
that  it  was  so  executed  because,  after  Mastino's  mur- 
der of  his  kinsman,  Bishop  Bartolommeo,  he  never 
wished  his  face  to  be  seen  again. 

This  monument,  executed  by  one  Perino  da  Milano, 
otherwise  unknown,  is  the  best  of  them  all;  —  Can- 
signorio's,  though  still  larger,  and  more  elaborate, 
being  over-decorated  and  more  poorly  sculptured. 
Still,  it  is  a  wonderful  sight,  with  its  forest  of  flowering 
pinnacles  and  scores  of  pleasing  statuettes.  Save  that 
it  is  hexagonal  in  shape,  instead  of  square,  its  vertical 
divisions  are  like  those  of  Mastino;  but  roundabout  the 
second  division  rise  six  separate  small  canopies  holding 
bronze  statues  of  saintly  heroes,  and  round  tin  spire 
cluster  six  others,  still  smaller,  containing  bronze 
females  representing  virtues,  with  half  a  dozen  marble 
"virtues"  seated  in  shell-like  niches  in  the  bases  of 
the  elongated  gables.  The  six  columns  surrounding 
the  sarcophagus  are  spirally  twisted;  four  angels  stand 
at  the  corners  of  the  recumbent  knight;  and  on  the 
sides  arc  relieved  seenes,  —  which  include  a  port  nival  01 
Cansignorio being  welcomed  to  Heaven  by  the  Saviour 
and  His  Mother!   Over  every  part  is  an  exuberance  of 

decoration  unsurpassed  for  amount  ami  detail,  though 
betraying  the  initial  decadence  of  the  style.    Us  arti>t 

was  Bonino,  of  the  celebrated  Campione  Family.1 

1  MThu  magnificent  itructure,"  layi  Perkins,  in  liis  Italian  8<ndptor$, 


864  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Such  is  the  tomb  which  that  villainous  fratricide 
raised  during  his  life,  surrounding  his  dead  form  with 
all  the  excellencies  which  it  wanted  when  alive,  trust- 
ing, with  them  and  the  beguiling  beauties  of  sculp- 
ture, to  earn  an  undeserved  happy  immortality.  All 
over  the  monument  his  emblems  are  repeated;  and  the 
Scala  ladder  (which  is  the  name's  Italian  meaning)  is 
cunningly  wrought  throughout  the  inclosing  grille. 
I  entered  the  little  yard,  paying  a  small  fee  to  the  cus- 
todian who  guards  the  gate,  and  inspected  the  minor 
tombs  scattered  about,  fastened  to  the  church  wall 
and  lying  upon  the  ground.  Most  of  them  are  simple, 
heavy  sarcophagi,  —  that  of  Mastino  I  being  distin- 
guished by  a  cross  carved  on  its  side;  Alberto's,  his 
faithful  brother,  is  cut  with  various  devices,  and  a 
relief  of  the  deceased  kneeling  to  the  Madonna;  and 
that  of  the  bastard  Giovanni  della  Scala  projects 
from  the  wall  with  some  most  attractive  early  carving, 
of  the  Madonna  and  saints  in  elaborate  niches.  I  en- 
tered the  church  also,  to  find  a  genuinely  Romanesque 
interior,  with  low7  narrow  aisles,  —  separated  from  the 
nave  by  crude  heavy  columns,  —  and  round  arches 
supporting  a  flat  roof.  It  was  very  dark  and  still,  with 
a  pervading  feeling  of  vast  age. 

I  turned  down  the  narrow  street  leading  to  the  right 
beside  the  churchyard,  passing  on  the  left  a  remark- 
able ancient  house  dating  from  the  eleventh  century, 
tumbledown  and  picturesque,  with  a  battlemented 
wall  screening  a  courtyard  now  desecrated  by  a  filthy 
stable.1  At  the  end  of  the  short  block,  and  to  the  right, 

"is  the  embodiment  of  the  profusely  splendid,  wayward,  lawless  life  of 
these  princes.  We  find  in  it  the  same  strange  admixture  of  paganism  and 
Christianity,  license  and  childlike  faith,  architecturally  expressed  by  Ro- 
man and  Gothic  elements,  extravagance  of  style  and  simplicity  of  line." 

1  Th<-  local  story,  that  this  was  a  palace  of  Romeo's  family,  is  an  inven- 
tion for  tin  beguilement  of  tourists. 


VERONA  LA  MARMORINA  365 

upon  the  south  of  the  Palazzo  Tribunale,  the  pretty 
little  park  of  the  Piazza  dell'  Independenza  opened 
before  me,  shaded  by  a  giant  oak  and  handsome  palms 
and  fir  trees,  having  a  bronze  equestrian  statue  of 
Garibaldi  in  its  centre,  —  noticeable  because,  for  once 
at  least,  the  horse's  feet  were  correctly  placed.  This 
was  the  private  garden  attached  to  Cansignorio's  pala- 
tial residence,  which  he  devoted  to  the  uses  of  the 
people.  Under  the  trees  were  many  benches,  occupied 
by  loungers  and  nursemaids.  It  is  a  favorite  gathering- 
spot,  as  I  afterwards  found,  for  the  populace  on  sum- 
mer evenings.  On  its  west  side  rises  the  long,  stuccoed, 
rococo  Palazzo  della  Posta.  Close  by  on  the  east  lies 
the  river,  with  the  Ponte  Umberto,  halfway  between 
the  other  principal  bridges  of  delle  Navi  and  di  Pietra. 
Returning  to  the  corner  of  the  churchyard,  I  walked 
a  block  eastward,  -  -  past  a  fine  old  Gothic  palace  on 
the  left,  —  then  a  block  northward,  emerging  into  the 
small  piazza  of  S.  Anastasia,  fronted  on  the  right  by 
that  glorious  church;  it  is  one  of  the  most  perfect 
Gothic  edifices  in  the  plain,  —  a  work  of  the  thirteenth 
and  fourteenth  centuries.  The  great  plain  brick  facade, 
whose  marble  facing  has  been  finished  along  the  base 
only,  and  around  the  portal,  seemed  vast  and  impos- 
ing upon  it- high  flight  of  steps.  Before  it  sits  a  marble 
figure  of  Paolo  Veronese,  palette  in  hand,  upon  a  lofty 
pedestal;  and  on  the  north  rises  the  side  of  the  little 
briek  Church  of  S.  Pietro  Martire,  —  with  its  two 
Gothic  doorways,  and  pointed  windows,  —  which  was 
founded  by  the  Brandenburg  soldiers  in  the  guard  of 

Can  Grande.  Between  the  rear  of  it  and  S.  Anastasia 
I  saw  a  short  brick  wall,  with  an  arched  gateway  sur- 
mounted by  a  Gothic  tomb;  it  was  the  beautiful  tomb 
of  Guglielmoda  ( lastelbarco,  which  Etuskin  pronounced 
"the  most  perfect  Gothic  monument  in  the  world." 


366  PLAIN  TOWNS   OF   ITALY 

Like  those  of  the  Seala,  it  consists  of  a  carved 
sarcophagus  with  a  reclining  figure,  topped  by  a  can- 
opy Off  trefoil  arches  supporting  a  quadrilateral  pyra- 
mid; but  the  sculptured  decorations  are  dignified 
and  charming,  and  the  proportions  very  symmetrical. 
Through  the  barred  gate  I  saw  a  little  abandoned  yard 
attached  to  S.  Pietro,  containing  three  ether  Gothic 
tombs  of  once  prominent  persons,  —  also  well  pro- 
portioned and  designed,  though  not  so  ornate.  Still 
another  Gothic  monument  was  the  splendid  portal  of 
S.  Anastasia  which  I  now  approached;  it  was  tall  and 
deeply  recessed,  beautifully  arched  and  moulded, 
and  contained  two  doorways,  in  whose  lunettes,  and 
in  the  pediment,  were  fourteenth-century  frescoes. 
But  the  interior  was  so  surpassingly  grand  as  to  drive 
away  all  thoughts  of  aught  else. 

The  noble,  aspiring  nave,  long  and  very  lofty,  soared 
upon  glistening  white  columns  and  pointed  arches  to  a 
groined  vaulting,  whose  cells,  as  well  as  the  soffits  of 
the  arches,  were  covered  with  that  remarkable  and 
lovely  frescoing  in  designs,  of  the  early  quattrocento, 
which  is  unique  in  Late-Gothic  work.  The  lofty  aisles, 
likewise  handsomely  groined  and  painted,  bore  their 
side  altars  affixed  directly  to  the  walls;  the  dim  light 
percolated  from  lancet  windows;  and  behind  the  gleam- 
ing high-altar  under  the  distant  triumphal  arch,  the 
short  choir  ended  in  a  graceful  apse.  The  church  was 
filled  with  exceptional  works  of  art.  By  the  first  two 
columns  crouched  two  curious  marble  figures  of  hunch- 
backs,  bearing  holy-water  basins  on  their  shoulders, 
of  which  the  left  one  was  by  Paolo  Veronese's  father. 
The  right  transept  contained  some  remarkable  paint- 
ings: a  St.  Paul  by  Cavazzola,  of  striking  power  and 
coloring,  a  Madonna  and  Saints  by  Girolamo  dai  Libri 
—  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  perfect  pietistic  works 


VERONA.     VIRGIN    V.ND  CHILD  ENTHRONED       QIRULAMO  DAI  LIBKI 


VERONA  LA  MARMORINA  367 

I  have  ever  seen;  and,  in  the  second  chapel  to  the  right 
of  the  choir,  a  superb  example  of  Altichieri,  that  is 
about  the  only  one  now  remaining  to  Verona.  This  is 
a  fresco  representing  a  number  of  mailed  knights 
kneeling  before  the  Madonna,  strong  in  composition, 
action,  and  lifelikeness,  dignified,  and  impressive,  — 
a  brilliant  exposition  of  his  wonderful  powers.  As  for 
the  Girolamo,  —  I  have  kept  a  photograph  of  its 
fascinating  beauty,  with  every  detail  like  a  cameo,  set 
up  in  my  room  wherever  I  have  gone,  from  that  day 
to  this. 

In  the  next  chapel  were  three  rare  examples  of  Mar- 
tini, D'  Avanzo,  and  Stefano  da  Zevio,  and  high  upon 
the  transept  wall  over  the  chapel  arch,  one  of  the  two 
remaining  frescoes  by  the  latter's  master,  Pisanello, 
representing  St.  George  mounting  his  charger  after 
the  death  of  the  dragon.  Though  greatly  injured  by 
the  damp,  which  has  removed  thesaint's  figure  and  the 
whole  left  side  of  the  picture,  enough  lingers  still  — 
in  the  spectators  and  various  skillfully  executed  ani- 
mals —  to  prove  his  worthiness  of  his  fame.  There  is 
almost  no  coloring  left,  but  a  fine  modeling,  and  a 
striking  perspective  of  the  fantastical  castles  perched 
on  a  hilltop  to  the  rear.  In  this  same  chapel  the  sac- 
ristan showed  a  figure  of  Christ  alleged  to  be  by  Man- 
tegna(?),  which  was  being  entombed  by  two  cherubs, 
executed  by  his  pupils;  and  around  the  window  were 
-•vcnteen  extraordinary  terra-cult  a  reliefs  of  the  life 
of  Christ,  vigorous,  dramatic  tableaux,  from  the  Flor- 
entine quattrocento  school. 

The  left  transept  afforded  me  two  more  interesting 
works:  a  group  of  frescoes  in  the  firsl  chapel,  by  the 
quattroeentist  Francesco  Benaglio,  consisting  of  three 
scenes  from  the  life  of  Christ,  which  Bhowed  well  how 
inferior  he  was  to  Altichieri,  bo  long  before,    -  and  an 


868  PLAIN    TOWNS   OF  ITALY 

engaging  panel  by  Liberale,  high  on  the  west  wall,  of 
Saints  Magdalen,  Clara,  and  Catherine,  the  Magdalen 

posed  above  I  ho  others, clothed  only  in  her  golden  hair, 
and  attended  by  two  angels.  This  was  a  very  graceful 
group,  of  finely-modeled  figures,  having  little  coloring, 
as  usual  with  him,  but  displaying  his  strong  powers  of 
realistic  flesh-work  and  vivid  feeling. 

In  therighl  aisle  Iobserved  a  strange,  painted,  terra- 
cotta group  of  the  Entombment,  —  a  fifteenth-century 
work  of  unusual  dramatic  force,  the  figures  life-size 
and  natural;  also,  as  a  frame  to  the  fourth  altar,  an 
interesting  reproduction  on  a  smaller  scale  of  the 
famous  Arco  de'  Gavi  of  the  Romans,  —  a  marble 
triumphal  arch  which  until  modern  times  stood  near 
the  Castel  Vecchio,  and  was  the  city's  chief  object  of 
beauty.  In  the  left  aisle,  finally,  were  four  fairly  good 
pictures,  two  specimens  each  of  the  work  of  the  cinque- 
centists,  Niccolo  Giolfino  and  Michele  da  Verona,  — 
the  former's  style  being  very  free  and  advanced,  the 
latter's  curiously  antique;  here  also  was  a  resplendent 
Renaissance  altar-frame  of  astonishing  decorativeness, 
including  nine  statues  and  a  dozen  marble  columns.  — 
Seldom  is  there  a  church  to  be  found  anywhere  with 
such  a  wealth  of  artistic  treasures  of  the  first  class. 
Later,  I  obtained  from  the  quay  a  view  of  its  back, 
showing  clearly  its  splendid  proportions,  graceful  apse, 
and  tall,  imposing,  Gothic  campanile. 

My  next  walk,  on  the  following  morning,  took  me 
farther  northeast  to  the  extreme  end  of  the  peninsula, 
occupied  by  the  group  of  the  Cathedral  buildings. 
The  Via  Duomo  from  the  Piazza  of  S.  Anastasia  led 
me  directly  northward  a  few  blocks  to  the  piazza  of 
the  Duomo,  upon  which  the  latter  fronts  westward. 
This  great  edifice  was  first  erected  about  800,  over  a 
temple  to  Minerva,  but  now  stands  a  Gothic  structure 


VEROXA  LA  MARMORINA  369 

of  the  trecento,  with  a  twelfth-century,  Romanesque 
choir  and  facade,  of  the  Lombard  style;  —  its  chief 
material  being  red  and  white  marbles  in  courses  upon 
the  sides.  The  picturesque  front,  of  yellowish-brown 
marble  below  and  whitened  brick  at  the  top,  appealing 
through  its  Lombard  mixture  of  heaviness  and  light 
details,  was  very  pleasing  to  me,  with  the  exception  of 
the  two  large  pointed  windows  of  later  date.  The  roof 
has  a  double  pitch  or  gable,  —  the  second  and  loftier 
one  being  over  the  centre  only,  —  with  Lombard, 
arcaded  cornices  along  each,  and  five  pinnacles  rising 
from  the  corners  and  apex.  The  main  attraction  is  the 
two-storied  porch,  round-arched  in  both  divisions  but 
thoroughly  Gothic,  and  of  graceful  lightness  in  the 
slender  supporting  columns  that  rise  from  the  backs  of 
antique  crouching  lions.  Its  entrance  is  exquisitely 
and  deeply  recessed;  at  the  sides  of  it  stand  the  small 
relieved  figures  of  Roland  and  Oliver,  already  men- 
tioned, very  quaint  in  style  and  execution. 

The  interior  is  not  so  noble  and  imposing  as  S. 
Anastasia,  being  much  lower,  and  widely  open  through 
the  extreme  spacing  of  the  four  clustered  Gothic  pillars 
on  each  side,  with  their  flat  arches;  nor  is  it  adorned 
with  frescoes  upon  the  vaulting,  —  whose  groining- 
cells  are  unhappily  blue  with  gilt  stars.  The  wide 
aisles  have  no  chapels,  and  the  curious  altar-frames 
reach  to  their  vaultings,  nearly  as  high  as  thai  of  the 
nave.  These  Frames  are  painted  architectural  schemes, 
by  Falconetto,  representing  grand  marble  arches 
adorned    with    exuberant    sculptures    and    statues, 

an  absurd  effect,  which  is  heightened  by  the  supposed 
statues  being  colored  brightly,  as  if  they  were  live 
personages  posing  then-  aloft.  At  the  cud  of  the  nave 
I  saw  Sammicheli's  splendid  choir-screen,  a  semi- 
circular  roodloft    of  yellowish-cream   marble,   open 


S70  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF   ITALY 

above,  with  fine  Ionic  columns  carrying  a  simple 
entablature.  Far  above  this  again,  over  the  triumphal 
arch,  a  vividly  tinted  fresco  of  the  Annunciation 
looked  down  from  its  group  of  fancy  angels;  and  be- 
hind, from  the  vaulting  of  the  apse,  glowed  Torbido's 
large  fresco  of  the  Assumption  of  the  Virgin,  which 
was  designed  by  Giulio  Romano. 

There  were  a  few  very  enjoyable  works  of  art  here, 
among  the  large  number:  on  the  second  altar  to  the 
right,  Liberale's  charming  panel  of  the  Magi,  —  re- 
plete with  bright  colors  and  happy  fancies,  reminding 
me  strongly  of  the  great  Florentine,  Gozzoli,  —  and 
three  canvases  by  Giolfino,  —  a  Pieta,  and  two  groups 
of  saints,  of  considerable  fairness  and  gentleness;  at 
the  end  of  the  right  aisle,  the  beautiful  Gothic  tomb  of 
St.  Agatha,  from  1353,  showing  in  marble  a  nun's  form 
of  tender  loveliness  lying  upon  a  bier,  with  four  angels 
at  the  corners,  covered  by  an  exquisitely  designed 
and  sculptured  Gothic  canopy,  —  the  whole  supported 
by  other  columns,  and  adorned  from  base  to  lofty  sum- 
mit with  a  marvelous  wealth  of  carving;  the  beautiful 
Renaissance  framework  of  the  shallow  chapel  contain- 
ing the  tomb;  the  fine  old  bronze  reliquaries  and  mon- 
strances upon  its  altar;  the  frescoes  of  Torbido  in  the 
choir,  from  the  life  of  the  Virgin;  and  last,  but  chiefly, 
in  a  stately  frame  by  Sansovino  over  the  first  altar  to 
left,  Titian's  enchanting  picture  of  the  Assumption. 
This  celebrated  work,  though  much  darkened  and  dis- 
colored, is  a  superlative  composition  of  lifelike  dra- 
matic figures,  of  intense  expression,  —  the  large  forms 
of  the  apostles  grouped  about  the  empty  sarcophagus, 
in  wonder,  having  just  perceived  the  Madonna  borne 
above  them  on  a  cloud,  kneeling  with  folded  hands, 
gazing  sweetly  back  at  them.  In  the  same  aisle,  upon 
the  organ  and  under  its  loft,  I  found  some  very  cap- 


VERONA  LA  MARMORINA  371 

tivating  work  by  Brusasorci,  including  a  number  of 
angels  of  bewitching  beauty.  Ah,  in  Verona,  one  is 
continually  dazzled  by  the  enticing  loveliness  of  her 
painted  feminine  forms,  and  the  unspeakably  joyous 
glory  of  their  coloring. 

Through  a  door  to  the  left  of  the  choir  I  passed  to 
the  adjacent  early  Church  of  S.  Maria  Matriculate, 
studded  with  old  Roman  columns  like  a  crypt,  and 
beyond  it,  to  the  tenth-century  Baptistery,  S.  Giovanni 
in  Fonte,  —  a  thoroughly  Byzantine  structure,  with  a 
restored  roof,  dimly  lighted  by  tiny  arched  windows 
in  the  right  and  end  walls,  which  were  bare  and  white. 
Diverse  columns  and  pillars  of  ancient  Roman  edi- 
fices, with  rounded  arches,  separated  the  nave  from 
the  low  narrow  aisles.  An  air  of  vast  antiquity  per- 
meated this  dusky  place,  assisted  by  the  fragments  of 
Byzantine  frescoes  here  and  there,  —  saintly  figures 
drawn  like  mosaic;  there  were  also  a  Madonna  and 
several  saints  of  the  tenth  century,  and  various  tab- 
leaux of  the  quaint  trecento.  The  custode  exhibited  a 
Pieta  which  he  said  was  by  Mantegna,  —  a  badly  in- 
jured panel,  still  betraying  masterly  anatomy  and 
expressivensss;  also  a  Baptism  of  Christ  by  Farinato, 
on  a  huge  scale.  Most  interesting  was  the  old  baptis- 
mal font  in  the  centre,  dating  from  ;il  leasl  1200, — 
a  high  octagonal  basin  of  yellow  marble,  its  sides  cut 
with  remarkable  New  Testament  scenes,  having  in  its 
middle  the  red  marble  tub  in  which  the  priesl  was 
wont  to  keep  himself  dry  while  immersing  1  beconverts. 
The  reliefs  were  very  wonderful  for  work  of  thai  dark 
age,  especially  the  journey  into  Egypt;  so  lifelike, 
dignified,  and  well  composed  wen-  they,  with  little 
appearance  of  Byzantine  moulds. 

Adjacent  to  lliis  edifice  I  visited  the  little  twelfth 
century  church  of  S.  Elena,  included,  like  the  others, 


872  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

in  the  cathedral  close;  in  it,  according  to  the  legend, 
Dante  in  1S20  gave  his  Latin  lecture  of  "De  Aqua 
et  Terra."  It  is  a  bare,  barnlike  place,  wooden-roofed, 
with  sonic  finely  carved  choir-stalls,  and  containing 
t  no  good  pictures,  —  a  Deposition  by  Falconetto,  and 
a  lovely  Madonna  and  Saints  in  a  glowing  sunset 
scene,  alleged  to  be  the  work  of  Brusasorci. 

Returning  to  S.  Maria,  we  found  on  its  farther, 
western  side  a  pleasing  old  cloister  of  about  1200,  with 
colonnades  of  coupled  slim  red  shafts;  and  underneath 
it,  exposed  in  places  by  opened  pits,  a  splendid  Roman 
mosaic  pavement,  in  graceful  designs  of  vases,  birds, 
animals,  an  olive  tree,  a  dove  eating  grapes,  etc.,  ex- 
ecuted with  great  naturalness,  in  harmonious  hues 
of  black  and  white  and  red.  The  intelligent  caretaker 
of  this  portion  of  the  buildings  assured  me  that  the 
pavement,  which  had  been  but  recently  discovered, 
was  proved  to  extend  to  the  dimensions  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty  by  four  hundred  feet,  and  had  un- 
questionably been  the  flooring  of  a  Roman  bath. 
West  again  of  the  cloister  extends  the  Palazzo  dei 
Canonici,  —  from  which  I  just  then  saw  the  Archbishop 
v'inerge  in  full  ceremonial  robes,  and  pass  by  me  into 
the  Duomo.  The  palace  contains  a  celebrated  library 
of  ancient  manuscripts,  the  Biblioteca  Capitolare, 
including  codexes  of  unsurpassable  value,  from  the 
fifth  to  the  ninth  centuries.  In  it  Petrarch  brought  to 
light  the  letters  of  Cicero. 

The  Bishop's  residence  lies  at  the  east  end  of  the 
Cathedral,  and  I  now  left  the  church  by  the  south 
door  to  walk  around  to  it.  From  this  side  the  exterior 
view  of  the  huge  red-and-white  edifice  was  most 
imposing,  -with  the  buttresses  topped  by  pinnacles, 
the  wide  projecting  transept,  and  the  chapel  apses 
embellished  by  effective  pilaster-strips.  The  side  porch 


VERONA  LA  MARMORLXA  878 

was  like  the  main  one,  on  a  somewhat  smaller  seale, 
with  delightful  old  carvings  of  weird  beasts  and 
Lombard  capitals.  On  reaching  the  rear  of  the  build- 
ing, its  lofty  apse  presented  a  handsome  sight;  and 
still  more  pleasing,  across  the  way,  was  a  sudden 
vista  revealed  to  me  through  a  barred  gate,  of  the 
richly  verdurous  garden  of  the  Palazzo  Zamboni,  - 
flowers  of  every  shade,  masses  of  varied  foliage,  marble 
statues  gleaming  against  them,  tinkling  fountains, 
and  peaceful  paths  wandering  in  the  shade. 

Just  beyond,  on  the  north  side  of  the  street,  I  came 
to  the  Vescovado,  behind  a  courtyard  screened  by  a 
high  wall.  Upon  entering,  this  wall  proved  to  be  an 
arcade  toward  the  court,  supported  by  a  variegated 
lot  of  very  old  columns,  each  different  from  the  others, 
—  one  of  them  being  cut  all  over  with  little  Gothic 
arches;  the  story  above  them,  showing  traces  of  having 
once  been  entirely  frescoed  in  arabesques,  was  pierced 
with  Gothic  windows.  On  the  west  projected  the  apse 
of  the  Duomo;  on  the  east  was  a  Renaissance  arcade 
of  two  divisions;  on  the  north,  the  ancient  stuccoed 
facade  of  the  palace,  bearing  marble  Gothic  windows 
and  a  medieval  tower,  with  several  old  statues  at  its 
foot.  I  rang  at  the  main  doorway,  under  a  porl  ico,  and 
;ni  aged  servitor  showed  me  over  the  piano  nobile.  In 
its  private  chapel  were  exhibited  three  delicious  little 
panels  by  Liberate,  —  the  Magi,  and  the  Birth  and 
Death  of  the  Virgin  —  exquisitely  composed  and 
colored,  realistic,  yet  with  an  idyllic  atmosphere, 
and  executed  with  the  perfed  finish  of  miniatun 

To  the  right  of  the  central  lower  we  entered  a 
very  fine  old  Gothic  chamber,  with  a  beautifully 
carved  wooden  ceiling,  Gothic  stone  doorways,  ami 
vertical  wall-beams  also  attractively  carved,      ;i  rare 

treasure   to  find   in    It.ily  now.     Here   w;is  a   curious 


874  PLAIN  TOWNS   OF   ITALY 

specimen  of  Caroto,-  the  Resurrection  of  Lazarus, — 
with  rather  unpleasing  figures  but  a  brilliant  tone 
and  landscape.  Then  I  was  taken  to  the  great  hall  on 
the  second-floor  front,  containing  an  altar  and  a  big 
fireplace,  adorned  with  indifferent  landscapes  frescoed 
in  large  scale  around  the  walls,  and,  above  the  latter, 
in  an  unbroken  circuit  at  the  cornice,  the  full-length 
portrait  figures  of  all  the  Bishops  of  Verona,  from 
St.  Peter  to  Pisamus  in  1CG8,  executed  by  Brusasorci. 
They  were  portrayed  as  standing  upon  a  gallery,  two 
between  each  pair  of  pillars,  —  were  powerfully  drawn, 
and  of  most  extraordinary  individuality,  although 
mostly  produced  from  the  imagination.  From  the 
northern  rooms  I  looked  directly  upon  the  rushing 
river,  across  a  pretty  little  terraced  garden. 

This  was  just  the  spot  where  the  stream  bends  from 
its  northeastern  course  around  to  a  southeasterly  one; 
and  on  walking  a  hundred  paces  to  the  southeast, 
through  the  irregular  Piazza  Brolo  with  its  old  stuccoed 
houses,  I  came  to  the  ancient  Ponte  di  Pietra,1  crossing 
to  the  foot  of  the  castle  hill.  Its  foundations  and  two  of 
its  arches  are  still  Roman.  Traversing  the  picturesque, 
medieval,  towered  gateway  that  arches  its  end,  I  stood 
upon  it  for  a  while  watching  the  enchanting  scene 
around  me,  —  the  glistening  hill  with  its  palace  and 
beetling  cypresses,  the  massive  stone  quays  along  the 
east  side,  the  decrepit  old  buildings  here  backing  upon 
the  west  bank,  the  floating  wooden  mills  anchored  in 
the  rushing  water,  with  heavily  turning  wheels,  con- 
nected by  narrow  foot-bridges  with  the  shore,  —  and 
the  lovely  green  heights  billowing  away  on  the  north- 
east, crowned  with  stone  fortresses. 

1  So  named  by  the  medievals  in  distinction  from  their  one  other  bridge, 
the  Pont<-  <1<  Hi-  Navi,  which,  as  its  name  signifies,  was  then  a  wooden  con- 
struction upon  floats. 


VEROXA  LA  MARMORINA  375 

Turning  southward  from  the  bridge,  to  return  to 
my  hotel  and  lunch,  by  the  street  that  curves  around 
westerly  to  the  vicinity  of  S.  Anastasia,  I  noticed  on 
its  right  side  an  excellent  example  of  one  of  the  medie- 
val Veronese  customs:  an  aged  building  containing  a 
shop  for  dry  groceries,  —  which  in  Italy  are  always 
sold  separately  from  the  fresh  produce,  -  -  adorned 
under  its  cornice  with  a  painted  frieze  composed  of 
several  varieties  of  those  wares.  Such  was  its  sign. 
But  this  frescoing  dated  from  the  sixteenth  century, 
showing  that  the  same  business  had  been  carried  on 
there  for  four  hundred  years,  probably  by  the  same 
family,  —  a  thing  not  uncommon  here.  Think  of  a 
business  house  founded  at  the  time  of  the  discovery 
of  the  new  world,  —  and  only  a  retail  shop  of  the  small- 
est class,  at  that.  Near  where  this  Via  Ponte  Pietra 
strikes  the  Via  Duomo,  I  passed  another  interesting 
edifice,  —  a  beautiful  old  palace  with  an  adjacent 
statued  garden  seen  through  a  wicket,  as  lovely  as  a 
dream  of  the  most  courtly  days  of  long  ago. 

That  afternoon  I  visited  the  extreme  part  of  Veron- 
etta  north  of  the  castle  hill,  and  including  the  latter; 
starting  out  over  the  modern  iron  bridge  named  after 
Garibaldi,  which  crosses  just  west  of  the  Piazza  del 
Duomo.  From  the  bridge  opened  a  charming  prospect 
up  the  river,  southwest,  closed  by  the  huge  brick  mass 
of  the  castle  of  theScaligers  at  its  farther  bend,  topped 
with  formidable  towers  and  battlement-,  -and  by 
its  extraordinary  crenelated  bridge,  which  certainly 
mils!  be  unlike  any  other  in  the  world.  It  is  heavy, 
dark,  and  menacing,  borne  OH  ponderous  piers,  flanked 
and  crowned  with  towers,  and  slopes  steeply  from  the 
castle  to  the  northern  shore.  This  Bide  of  it  the  cur- 
rent was  filled  with  half  a  dozen  more  floating  mills, 

whose  great  revolving  wheels  showed  it-  tremendous 


376  PLAIN  TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

force.  To  the  eastward  was  another  line  of  old  dwell- 
ings, backing  upon  the  water  with  mouldering  walls 
and  bits  of  garden,  curving  from  the  hill  of  S.  Pietro 
up  the  left  bank,  to  a  vast  brick  church  in  a  sun-baked 
piazza,  which  faced  westward  with  its  right  flank 
upon  the  stream.  It  was  my  first  objective  point,  the 
Church  of  S.  Giorgio  in  Braida,  which  contains  many 
fine  paintings,  —  amongst  them,  Girolamo's  master- 
piece, and  Verona's. 

The  Venetian  city  wall  curves  round  the  edifice, 
striking  the  river  between  it  and  the  Ponte  Garibaldi; 
so  I  quickly  found  myself  walking  through  a  little 
park  along  the  moat,  which  was  stone-banked  to  a 
depth  of  thirty  feet.  Then  I  crossed  it  by  a  bridge  to 
a  white-stone  city  gate  of  good  Renaissance  lines,  set 
in  the  shadow  of  a  huge  round  corner  bastion,  and, 
penetrating  the  long  dark  archway,  emerged  upon  the 
Piazza  of  S.  Giorgio.  Its  plain  rococo  facade  of  light 
stone  was  uninteresting;  but  on  being  admitted  through 
its  side  door  by  an  old  woman,  the  sacristan's  wife, 
I  stood  amidst  a  glittering  display  of  paintings  sur- 
passing nearly  every  church  I  had  ever  seen.  The 
absence  of  aisles  and  transepts  permitted  the  decora- 
tions of  the  side  altars,  set  in  shallow  recesses,  as  well 
as  those  of  the  twin  gilded  organ-lofts  and  the  choir,  to 
pour  their  wealth  of  brilliant  colors  upon  the  observer 
like  a  princely  gallery  of  art;  a  fine  soft  light  illuminated 
the  canvases  from  the  white- washed  dome,  and  a 
further  beauty  shone  from  the  handsome  Renaissance 
marble  railing  inclosing  the  elevated  choir,  with  its 
eight  surmounting  bronze  statues  of  saints. 

Dominating  this  galaxy  with  its  rich  clear  tone, 
glowed  the  great  masterpiece  of  Girolamo  dai  Libri 
from  the  fourth  altar  on  the  left.  I  remember  still  the 
sensations  with  which  I  gazed  upon  it,  entranced.    To 


VERONA  LA  MARMORIXA  377 

describe  it, — there  was  naught  but  a  Madonna  simply 
throned  before  an  alluring  landscape  of  holds,  woods, 
and  hills  dotted  with  castles,  under  the  fruited  lemon 
tree  which  was  the  master's  emblem,  —  with  Saints 
Zeno  and  Lorenzo  Giustiniani  standing  at  her  sides,  and 
three  angels  of  incredible  beauty  singing  at  her  feet;  but 
what  words  could  give  an  idea  of  its  unutterable  charm, 
its  serene  loveliness  of  figure,  atmosphere  and  expres- 
sion, its  sense  of  a  millennial  tranquillity  surpassing 
earthly  joys,  whose  note  is  struck  by  the  melody  of 
those  enchanting  singers.  Deeply  golden  is  the  tone, 
the  inner  glow;  the  figures  stand  forth  with  a  fidelity 
to  nature  as  striking  as  their  haunting  grace;  their  faces 
of  celestial  loveliness,  calm  but  beautiful,  fill  the  be- 
holder with  delight,  and  the  sumptuous,  gleaming  col- 
ors of  their  embroidered  robes  fuse  into  one  scintillating 
harmony.  Truly  this  was  the  zenith  of  Verona's  art, — 
the  representative  of  its  highest  ideas  and  excellencies. 

The  other  most  prominent  specimens  of  the  school 
here  were  a  realistic,  well-modeled  Martyrdom  of 
St.  Lawrence  by  Stefano  da  Zevio,  exhibiting  his  ad- 
vanced powers;  two  pleasing,  brightly  lined  specimens 
of  Caroto,  —  an  Annunciation  and  a  St.  Ursula  with 
her  virgins,  both  showing  his  peculiar  grace;  and  a 
Martyrdom  of  St.  George  in  Paolo  Veronese's  later 
manner,  —  perhaps  the  best  work  of  his  yel  remaining 
in  his  native  town.  But  I  was  also  pleased  by  superb 
examples  of  the  two  greal  masters  of  Brescia,  — an- 
other Martyrdom  of  St.  George,  by  Romanino,  and  a 
Madonna  in  clouds  above  five  female  saints,  by  Mo- 
retto;  the  former  was  in  four  separate  panels,  of  much 
realism  and  expressiveness,  the  latter  in  Moretto'fl 
characteristic,  unmistakable  tone,  <»f  silvery  gray, — 
displaying  surpassing  beauty  in  the  rounded  figures, 
and  their  dignified,  restful  disposition. 


878  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

From  S.  Giorgio  I  followed  the  street  southeast, 
parallel  with  the  bend  of  the  river,  to  the  smaller 
Church  of  S.  Stefano.  This  was  another  red-and-white 
edifice,  with  a  simple  portal  in  its  plain  fagade  of  the 
eleventh  century,  topped  by  a  rose-window  and  ap- 
proached by  steps.  The  original  church  here  was  the 
oldest  in  Verona,  its  first  cathedral,  destroyed  by 
Theodoric  in  the  sixth  century;  the  present  one  was 
built  upon  its  remains,  —  turning  the  ancient  choir 
into  a  crypt  by  constructing  a  new  choir  above  it.  After 
some  trouble  in  finding  the  sacristan  at  his  dwelling 
near  by,  I  was  admitted  to  the  nave,  which  appeared 
short  and  narrow,  separated  by  stucco  pillars  and  arches 
from  the  low,  restricted  aisles,  and  covered  by  a  mod- 
ern wooden  ceiling;  the  presbytery  was  exceptionally 
elevated,  and  approached  by  narrow  stairs  in  the  aisles, 
between  which  extended  a  red  marble  railing.  Under 
this  railing  steps  descended  to  the  dark  crypt;  and  over 
it  was  visible  the  high-altar,  with  a  bright  modern 
fresco  above  it.  There  were  but  two  chapels  to  the 
right,  and  one  to  the  left;  —  altogether  a  most  un- 
usual, strange  edifice,  with  an  air  of  exceeding  anti- 
quity. 

In  the  second  chapel  to  the  right  was  a  picture  by 
Brusasorci,  of  good  tactile  value,  —  S.  Stefano  aiding 
Christ  to  carry  the  Cross,  with  eight  saints  below;  in 
the  first  chapel  were  two  tombs  at  the  sides,  holding 
the  remains  of  two  bishops  and  forty  early  martyrs. 
Climbing  to  the  presbytery,  which  was  lengthened 
like  a  transept,  I  saw  another  work  of  Brusasorci  in 
its  central  dome,  —  the  Saviour  and  four  Evangelists, 
with  the  instruments  of  the  Passion  curiously  scattered 
over  the  adjacent  vaulting,  —  and  at  its  right  end, 
a  Caroto  of  beautiful  bluish  tinting,  representing  the 
Madonna  with  Saints  Peter  and  Andrew,  before  a 


YEROXA  LA  MARMORIXA  379 

wide  landscape.  Here  was  another  queer  construction, 
a  highly  raised  ambulatory  around  the  small  choir, 
reached  by  steps  at  each  side  of  the  high-altar;  in  its 
walls  were  embedded  ancient  columns,  and  at  its  rear 
stood  the  first  episcopal  seat  of  Verona,  dating  from 
the  sixth  century,  simply  made  of  heavy  marble  slabs. 
To  the  left  in  the  presbytery  was  a  fresco  by  Stefano 
da  Zevio,  a  Coronation  of  the  Virgin,  with  a  host  of 
pretty  angels  roundabout,  and  an  Annunciation  below. 

Descending  the  twelve  steps  to  the  crypt,  past  an 
antique  statue  of  St.  Peter,  from  the  third  century,  it 
appeared  to  extend  the  full  width  of  the  presbytery 
above,  —  which  was  supported  by  a  row  of  ancient 
columns  down  the  middle.  Here  was  the  original  choir, 
under  the  later  one,  and  the  original  ambulatory, 
likewise  elevated  and  approached  by  steps  at  each 
end.  It  seemed  strange  to  stand  in  the  very  edifice 
ruined  by  Theodoric  fourteen  centuries  ago. 

S.  Stefano  has  also  an  unusually  picturesque  tower, 
of  Romanesque  design,  rising  upon  the  dome,  and 
visible  onlv  from  above.  I  climbed  the  hill  of  S. 
Pietro,  from  the  east  end  of  the  Ponte  di  Pietra.  and 
soon  commanded  a  clear  view  of  this  curious  old 
tower;  it  is  of  brick,  very  broad,  and  octagonal  in 
shape,  consisting  of  two  stories  of  open  arcades,  each 
containing  eight  double  arches. 

The    steep,    narrow    way,    a    veritable    stairc, 
mounted   between   decaying  old   houses,   bore   t<»   the 
right  between  walled  fields,  and    finally  brought    inc. 

out  of  breath,  to  an  esplanade  before  ;  be  castle.  Here 
the  panorama  was  superb;  just  below  me  itretched 
the  line  of  cypresses,  below  them  again  a  medieval 
cloister,  and  then  the  ruins  of  the  excavated  Roman 
theatre,  which  stood  against  the  base  of  the  hill  a  little 

south  of  the  bridge;  the  rows  of  broken  white  seats, 


380  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

the  Bagged  pit,  the  shattered  stage,  lay  beneath 
me  like  a  plan.  Beyond  them  flowed  the  shining  river 
with  its  bright  quays;  and  the  sea  of  tiled  roofs,  with 
towers  of  every  age,  extended  far  away  between  the 
silvery  windings  to  the  sunburnt  open  plain.  Toward 
the  north  this  erept  into  the  enfolding  mountains,  with 
their  black  flanks  and  dentated  outlines. 

In  the  castle  itself  there  was  nothing  to  see;  this 
modern  barrack,  rising  behind  its  inclosed,  empty 
court,  has  hidden  from  sight  the  ruins  of  Theodoric 
and  Gian  Galeazzo.  Soldiers  lounged  in  the  windows, 
and  sentries  guarded  the  open  gates.  I  thought  of 
what  a  different  view  the  Ostrogoth  must  have  be- 
held when  he  reigned  on  this  summit,  —  the  imperial 
marble  city,  still  largely  existing,  in  its  splendor  of 
baths,  temples,  and  palaces;  of  which  to-day  there 
remained  beneath  my  eye  only  those  broken  frag- 
ments of  the  theatre  below,  and  the  distant  mutilated 
arches  of  the  Arena. 

From  the  northern  end  of  Piazza  Erbe  runs  one  of 
the  main  thoroughfares  of  the  city,  a  little  south  of 
west,  under  the  successive  names  of  Corso  Porta 
Borsari  and  Corso  Cavour,  directly  to  the  Castel 
Vecchio  of  the  Scaligers;  whence  it  continues  as  a 
modern  wTide  avenue  to  the  far-off  Porta  Palio.  The 
Hotel  Aquila  Nera  is  located  midway  between  Corso 
Borsari  and  Via  Nuova;  and  just  an  equal  distance  to 
the  north  beyond  the  former  rises  the  large  Church  of 
S.  Eufemia,  the  remaining  object  of  interest  in  the 
eastern  half  of  the  peninsula.  It  is  a  brick  structure  of 
the  thirteenth  century,  of  general  Gothic  type,  crowded 
closely  between  houses,  with  only  a  small  open  space 
before  the  facade.  It  has  a  curious  brick  front,  with 
twTo  long  windows  at  the  sides  of  a  simple  Gothic  door- 
way, and  an  old  tomb  fastened  under  each  window,  — 


VERONjJ      a  1. 1  \  B   TRIPTYCH    in   <  hi  RCH    O]    BAN    ZEND    HAGUIORJ 

A\l>i;i.  \    \i  w  I  BONA.) 


VERONA  LA  MARMORIXA  381 

the  right  one  of  the  fourteenth  eentury,  the  left  of 
shapely  Renaissance  design,  by  Sammicheli.  Another 
tomb  by  Sammicheli  is  attached  to  the  south  wall  near 
the  side  portal,  —  to  whose  marble  reliefs  my  e\ 
were  first  drawn,  on  arriving  early  one  morning,  pre- 
pared for  a  long  walk  to  the  western  quarters. 

I  entered  the  nave  at  once,  finding  a  long,  wide,  aisle- 
less  space,  with  altars  affixed  to  its  bare  walls  and  a 
flat  vaulting  overhead,  having  no  transept,  and  but  a 
small  choir,  with  flanking  chapels.  The  right  chapel 
was  formerly  distinguished  by  some  grand  frescoes  of 
Caroto,  —  which  have  now  been  practically  destroyed 
by  the  damp  and  by  retouching,  —  also  his  master- 
piece of  the  three  Archangels,  upon  canvas,  which  has 
now  been  removed  to  the  city  museum.  Over  the  side 
altars  there  remained  a  Brusasorci,  — of  the  Madonna 
in  clouds  with  saints  below,  very  light  in  tone,  coloring, 
and  weight,  —  and  a  fine  example  of  Moretto  of  Bres- 
cia, similar  in  subject,  but  with  far  more  grace  and  ex- 
pression, in  his  strange  green  tone.  There  is  a  super- 
stitious custom  in  some  parts  of  Italy  of  retaining  half- 
witted men  as  assistant  sacristans;  and  the  one  in  this 
church  was  the  most  daft  I  had  yet  encountered,  lie 
wandered  about  mumbling  to  himself,  ami  could  be 
made  to  understand  nothing. 

Close  by  in  this  street  I  aoticed  a  house  with  fine 
Gothic  windows  and  a  beautiful  Gothic  balcony  <>r 
openwork  marble;  ami  on  returning  to  Corso  Borsari, 
I  observed  the  adjacent  little  Church  of  S.  Giovanni 
in  Poro,  which  —  as  its  oame  Implies  —  was  first 
built  in  the  ancient  days  when  thenear-bj  Piazza  Erbe 
was  still  the  Forum,  and  whose  present  facade  bears 
some  pleasing  Gothic  details.  Then  I  marched  west- 
ward, with  the  tracks  of  the  tramway.  s<«»n  reaching 

a  stone  screen  that  blocked  the  street  wall  to  wall, 


382  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

rising  to  a  height  of  three  stories,  with  two  large  arches 
in  the  ground  story  for  the  passage  of  vehicles.  It  was 
the  Porta  Borsari  of  the  Romans,  —  the  outer  shell 
of  one  of  their  city  gates. 

This  very  interesting  relic  of  the  building  of  Gallie- 
nus  still  preserved  much  of  the  original  adornment 
upon  its  face,  and  was  especially  significant  to  me, 
because  this  decoration  was  the  forerunner  of  the  Re- 
naissance style:  here  were  the  half-columns,  the  pilas- 
ters, the  pediments,  and  classic  window-frames,  —  the 
w  hole  key-note  of  the  Renaissance  method.  One 
might  testify  that  it  was  a  relic  of  the  sixteenth  cent- 
ury, —  aside  from  the  age  of  the  stones.  Beside  the 
two  large  arches  in  their  Corinthian  settings,  was  a 
smaller  archway  for  pedestrians,  and  over  them  were 
two  divisions  of  half  a  dozen  little  windows  each, 
round-headed,  and  set  in  double  frames,  —  some  of 
which  are  demolished.  But  it  is  a  standing  proof  of 
the  directness  with  which  the  Italian  Renaissance 
style  was  reproduced  from  the  later  Roman. 

The  Corso  Cavour,  which  I  now  followed,  was  wider 
and  more  imposing,  and  so  lined  with  fine  palaces  as 
to  rank  first  in  the  city.  Immediately  to  the  right  rose 
the  Renaissance,  rococo  Palazzo  Ponzoni;  to  the  left, 
the  house  of  the  painter  Niccolo  Giolfino,  showing 
traces  of  the  frescoes  with  which  he  had  once  covered 
it;  next  it  were  the  little  Piazza  and  Church  of  SS. 
Apostoli,  having  a  medieval  tower  made  of  all  sorts  of 
material,  and  three  ancient  Roman  tombs  affixed  to 
its  wall.  Beyond,  still  on  the  left  side,  rose  the  splen- 
did Palazzo  Bevilacqua  of  Sammicheli,  with  a  lofty, 
rusticated,  stone  facade  of  exceeding  beauty,  and  a 
handsome  court  possessing  a  good  open  stairway. 
Opposite  tins  structure  stood  an  old  Gothic  archway, 
capped  by  a  statue  of  St.  Lawrence  with  his  gridiron, 


YEROXA  LA  MARMORIXA  383 

—  the  entrance  to  the  restricted  yard  and  side  portal 
of  the  Church  of  S.  Lorenzo;  this  is  one  of  Verona's 
most  interesting  edifices,  said  to  have  been  first  built 
in  the  fifth  century  upon  a  ruined  temple  of  Venus. 

The  present  church  of  the  eleventh  century  is  thor- 
oughly Romanesque,  and  delightfully  picturesque. 
Its  fagade,  turned  westward  upon  another  little  court 
entered  from  the  quay,  is  like  a  medieval  stronghold 
in  appearance,  with  round  towers  at  the  angles,  pierced 
only  by  loophole  apertures,  and  but  a  narrow  wall- 
space  between  them,  cut  with  a  single  doorway  and 
tiny  windows;  the  material  is  fully  as  odd-looking, 
being  unplastered  red  brick  and  yellowish  tufa,  in 
alternate  rough  courses. 

When  I  entered,  by  a  later  side  portico  of  Renais- 
sance design,  it  was  to  stand  amazed  at  the  strange- 
ness of  the  interior:  here  was  a  genuine,  early  Roman 
basilica,  with  two-storied  arcades  all  around  a  narrow 
nave,  like  S.  Agnese  fuori  le  Mura  at  Home;  they  were 
heavily  constructed,  of  the  same  red  -and-white  mate- 
rials, with  piers  of  grouped  columns  and  single  col- 
umns, alternately;  a  light,  marble,  classic  cornice  sur- 
mounted the  lower  arches,  and  the  vaulting  was 
whitewashed.  Naught  else  was  plastered,  not  even 
the  rough  walls  of  the  apsidal  choir,  pierced  by  little 
unframed  windows  far  aloft.  Through  other  such  tiny 
openings  in  the  upper  gallery  walls,  shafts  of  yellow 

light  from  glass  of  thai  hue  percolated  the  dusk  with 
a  weird,  antique  effect.  These  bare  walls  had  all  hem 
plastered  and  frescoed  long  ago,  however,  a-  wa> 
evident  by  the  small  irregular  fragments  of  such 
work  in  Byzantine  style,  lingering  here  and  there  in 
corners.  One  Renaissance  canvas  occupied  the  apse 
trail,  a  rich,  glowing  Madonna  and  Saints  by 
Brusasorci. 


384  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Continuing  my  way  down  the  Corso  Cavour,  after 
passing  some  more  fine  palaces,  including  Sammicheli's 
majestic  Palazzo  Canossa,  —  I  reached  the  Castel 
Vecchio,  and  the  piazza  on  its  east  side  stretching  from 
street  to  river.  This  space  contains  a  bronze  statue  of 
Cavour, —  who  deserves  more  such  memorials, — 
ami  commands  a  clear  view  of  the  stronghold  with  its 
battlemented  bridge.  Heavy  square  towers  stand  at 
the  four  angles  of  the  castle,  no  higher  than  its  walls; 
a  moat,  now  dry,  surrounds  it,  and  the  keep  raises  its 
fierce,  lofty  head  above  the  springing  of  the  bridge  in 
the  rear  wall.  A  very  peaceful  look  is  given  the  eastern 
part  by  the  insertion  of  modern  windows  and  the 
growth  of  trees  and  vines  in  the  grassy  fosse;  but  I 
found  the  central  and  western  portions  still  perforated 
by  the  old  slanting  apertures  for  the  fire  of  arquebuses 
and  carronades;  and  across  the  main  drawbridge, 
through  the  guard-tower  of  the  entrance,  I  saw  sol- 
diers filling  the  spacious  courtyard  as  of  yore. 

For  the  place  is  now  a  barrack,  with  no  ingress 
allowed.  A  separate  lane  through  its  western  part,  for 
the  convenience  of  the  public,  led  me  between  high 
walls,  under  several  archways,  to  the  entrance  of  the 
bridge  and  its  guarding  keep.  Contadini  with  asses 
laden  with  panniers  were  passing  in  and  out.  Climb- 
ing the  side  parapet  of  the  bridge,  I  looked  between 
two  of  its  eight-foot  battlements  at  the  frowning 
river-wall  of  the  castle,  and  the  tawny  Adige  dashing 
below. 

To-day  thou  still,  O  tireless  fugitive, 

Dost  murmuring  pass  upon  thy  way,  beneath 

The  Scaligers'  old  battlemented  bridge.1 

In  those  very  walls,  I  reflected,  the  cowardly  Can 
Grande  II  huddled  himself  from  the  people's  gaze, 

1  M.  W.  Arms's  translation  of  Carducci. 


VERONA  LA  MARMORIXA  385 

and  met  the  death  which  he  sought  to  avoid,  at  the 
hand  of  his  murderous  brother.  But  turning  away, 
I  followed  the  quay  along  the  right  bank,  which  here 
curved  to  the  northward  with  the  stream;  and  after 
walking  more  than  a  third  of  a  mile,  swerved  west- 
ward to  the  large  Piazza  of  S.  Zeno.  Here  in  the  ex- 
treme northwestern  corner  of  the  city  stands  its  great- 
est church,  between  the  fortifications  and  the  river, 
facing  the  walls  over  a  vast, dirt-paved,  sunny  piazza, 
and  turning  its  apse  upon  the  hurtling  waters.  This 
quarter,  perhaps  populous  in  the  prime  of  Venetian 
days,  is  now  mostly  bare  and  deserted,  —  a  congeries 
of  silent,  walled  lanes  between  wide  si  retches  of  shady 
gardens,  with  a  few  scattered  dwellings. 

Looking  over  the  empty  square  vibrating  with 
heated  air,  loomed  the  impressive  facade  of  the  his- 
toric church,  simple  and  dignified,  constructed  of 
yellowish-white  stone,  —  one  of  the  finest  accomplish- 
ments of  Lombard  art.  The  nave  with  its  gable  is 
much  loftier  than  the  slanting  roofs  of  the  aisles;  along 
the  eaves  runs  an  arcaded  cornice;  a  handsome  rose- 
window  tops  the  canopied  portal,  and  pilaster-strips 
in  Lombard  fashion  are  attached  vertically  a  I  short 
intervals.  There  is  no  other  window,  the  only  other 
decoration  being  a  Romanesque  arcade  of  little  blind 
arches,  like  very  small  double  windows  blocked  up, 
crossing  the  facade  near  the  top  of  the  portal.  The 
canopy  of  the  latter  is  a  simple  ronnd-arched  gable, 
supported  by  slender  columns  rising  from  red-marble, 
antique  lions,  with  stone  panels  at  the  sides  contain- 
ing many  Lombard  reliefs,  ami  other  painted  reliefs 
in  the  tympanum.  The  building  was  begun  about 
900  and  completed  in  1  1?S,  u  hen  I  he  peace  wa>  signed 

between  the  League  ami   Frederick   Barbarossa;  its 
design  indicates  the  culmination  of   that    architect- 


386  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

ural  period  which  Ruskin  calls  "the  introduction  of 
Christianity  into  barbaric  minds."1 

Adding  to  the  dignity  given  the  edifice  by  its  iso- 
lated situation,  are  the  two  large  towers  isolated  at 
the  sides,  of  equal  age  but  diverse  appearance;  —  the 
campanile  being  to  the  right,  in  red-and-white  courses 
like  the  sides  of  the  church,  tall,  square,  and  without 
windows  to  its  two-storied  belfry,  which  is  surmounted 
by  a  spire  with  corner  pinnacles;  the  other  being  a 
square,  red-brick,  battlemented  tower,  patched, 
blocked  up  and  reopened  like  a  crazy-quilt,  —  all  that 
remains  of  the  medieval  monastery,  where  the  Em- 
perors were  wont  to  stay.  Advancing  to  the  church's 
portal,  I  studied  the  curious  Lombard  reliefs  beside  it, 
thoroughly  characteristic  in  their  archaic  figures  of 
huntsmen,  animals,  and  other  evidences  of  Lombard 
out-door  life,  including  the  celebrated  "Chase  of 
Theodoric."  The  legend  is  represented  by  the  King 
as  a  horseman  chasing  a  stag,  which  he  vainly  and 
wildly  follows  to  the  very  gates  of  Hell. 

But  when  the  bronze  doors  of  the  entrance  were 
before  me,  I  forgot  everything  else  in  incredulous  won- 
der at  their  decoration.  I  was  looking  upon  bronze 
reliefs  of  the  ninth  century,  in  forty-eight  divided 
squares,  —  the  only  artistic  work  of  such  a  nature 
remaining  to  us  from  that  dark  age,  and  to  me  the 
most  interesting  object  in  all  Verona.  The  panels, 
about  a  foot  in  diameter,  contain  miniature  figures 
of  much  crudity,  enacting  scenes  from  the  Old  and  New 
Testaments,  without  backgrounds  or  any  regularity  of 
composition,  much  as  a  child  would  draw;  but  what 

1  Ruskin.  Verona,  and  other  Lectures.  —  According  to  Mr.  Perkins 
{Italian  Sculptors)  the  church  was  founded  in  the  sixth  century,  and  com- 
pleted by  Emperor  Otho  I  in  the  tenth;  but  I  cannot  see  where  he  obtained 
his  authority. 


VERONA  LA  MARMORINA  387 

pen  could  describe  their  extraordinary  dramatic  action, 
their  vigor,  and  intensity  of  feeling!  They  are  fasci- 
nating beyond  compare,  —  these  uncouth  forms,  with 
the  strange  pointed  hats  of  the  Lombards,  coming 
down  to  us  from  that  far-off  silent  time  of  artistic 
ignorance;  here  were  tense  dramatic  composition  and 
motion,  significance  of  pose  and  expression,  five  centu- 
ries before  Giotto. 

After  a  long  inspection,  I  passed  through  the  inner 
doors,  down  several  steps  into  the  nave,  which 
stretched  majestically  before  me  with  rhythmically 
curving  arches,  like  a  pealing  anthem,  and  soaring  far 
aloft  to  a  handsome  wooden  roof  similar  to  Padua's 
Eremetani;  bare  stone  and  brick  were  everywhere,  in 
red-and-white  courses;  it  had  a  beauty  above  that  of 
riches.  It  is  one  of  the  noblest  edifices  I  know,  -one 
of  the  few  grandest  churches  of  all  Italy.  The  compa- 
ratively small,  but  lofty,  round  arches,  resting  upon 
alternate  piers  and  columns,  divide  off  the  much  lower 
aisles,  which  have  neither  altars  nor  chapels;  a  great 
length  marks  its  stern,  sublime  grandeur;  the  distant 
choir  rises  high  upon  the  visible  arches  of  the  crypt 
behind  the  central  descending  steps,  —  its  fronl  balus- 
trade crowned  with  marble  statues;  and  over  the  high- 
altar  in  t  he  rear  towers  a  Gothic  triumphal  arch,  fram- 
ing the  groined  and  vertical  divisions  of  the  graceful 
apse,  glistening  at  the  top  with  frescoes.  Here  it  was 
that  Ezzelino  in  1238  led  the  daughter  <»t'  the  Emperor 
to  the  altar.   Oh,  for  a  magic  glass  to  call  up  again 

that  spectacle,  —  the  glittering  Qobles  in  their  silken 
long-hose  and  jewels,  t  he  loiig-l  rained  ladies.  I  he  men- 
at-arms  in  gleaming  casques  and  corselets,  holding 
back  the  motley,  gay  crowd  of  bourgeois,  the  Em- 
peror on  his  throne,  and  the  Archbishop  in  .ill  hi- 
glory! 


388  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

By  the  first  column  to  the  left  I  noticed  the  ancient 
porphyry  vase,  nearly  ten  feet  in  diameter,  which 
according  to  the  legend  was  brought  to  S.  Zeno  from 
Rome  by  a  demon;  and  on  the  choir  parapet,  its  quaint 
Byzantine  statues  of  Christ  and  the  apostles,  of  the 
thirteenth  century.  On  the  right  wall  of  the  choir 
hangs  Verona's  most  cherished  painting,  in  an  ex- 
quisitely carved  Renaissance  frame,  —  the  celebrated 
panel  of  Madonna  and  Saints  by  Mantegna  (1459) 
which  wrought  such  a  revolution  in  the  Verona  school, 
and  set  the  type  for  its  pietistic  work.  Though  ported 
to  Paris  by  Napoleon,  and  carried  back  (minus  the 
three  predelle,  which  are  now  but  copied),  it  is  still 
marvelously  beautiful. 

It  is  divided  by  Corinthian  columns  into  three  verti- 
cal compartments;  the  throned  Madonna  sits  in  the 
central  division,  surrounded  by  captivating,  melodi- 
ous putti,  with  suspended  wreaths  of  luscious  fruits 
overhead;  four  bright-robed  saints  stand  in  each  of 
the  side  compartments,  and  between  the  rear  pillars 
of  the  covering  portico  is  visible  a  turquoise-blue  sky 
striped  with  whitest  clouds.  The  glorious,  well-pre- 
served coloring  is  a  scheme  of  richest  blues  and  orange 
and  lavender,  the  grace  of  the  forms  supernal,  the 
atmosphere  and  expression  of  a  celestial,  calm  felicity. 
Compared  with  Mantegna's  still  earlier  works,  the 
influence  of  Bellini  is  dominantly  manifest. 

In  the  crypt  I  beheld  five  rows  of  antique  marble 
columns,  of  every  shape  and  sort  of  capital,  including 
horrid  mouthing  beasts  and  deformed  humans  in  large 
numbers,  and  at  the  back,  the  bronze  sarcophagus  of 
S.  Zeno  upon  a  marble  pedestal.  The  cloisters,  off.  the 
north  aisle,  are  lovely,  composed  of  arcades  with 
coupled  little  red-marble  columns,  of  the  thirteenth  and 
fourteenth  centuries,  with  crude-leaved  capitals;  and 


VERONA  LA  MARMORIXA  389 

various  early  tombs  lie  in  the  corridors,  —  the  latter 
being  the  entire  contents  of  the  "museum"  which  the 
guidebooks  speak  of.  Two  sides  of  the  rectangle  have 
Romanesque  arches  and  two  have  Gothic  arches. 
Here  the  Emperors  were  used  to  walk  witli  the  abbots 
when  staying  at  the  monastery,  many  centuries  ago. 
In  Dante's  day  the  abbot  was  Giuseppe,  bastard  son 
of  Alberto  della  Scala,  for  which  appointment  Alberto 
is  rebuked  in  the  Purgatorio,  canto  xix. 

I  stepped  over  to  the  near-by  gate  and  bastion  of 
S.  Zeno,  in  the  city  wall,  and  enjoyed  outside  a  splen- 
did view  of  the  fertile  plain  and  looming  mountains, 
the  tremendous  fortifications  with  their  deep  moat 
and  mighty  embankments,  the  stone  bastion  witli  it> 
angles  and  sallyports,  and  the  handsome  Renaissance 
facade  of  the  gate,  erected  by  Sammicheli,  in  yellow 
brick  with  stone  trimmings.  Then  I  followed  the  out- 
side road  along  the  walls  for  a  third  of  a  mile  south- 
ward, to  the  bastion  and  gate  of  S.  Bernardino,  dose 
inside  which  I  came  to  the  renowned  church  of  that 
name.  Rising  behind  a  courtyard  with  extensive  ar- 
cades was  its  simple  brick  facade,  fronting  southward, 
having  a  Renaissance  marble  doorway,  two  lancet 
Gothic  windows  beside  it,  and  a  rose-window  over- 
head. The  monastery  of  the  Franciscans  by  whom 
the  edifice  was  built  in  the  quattrocento  and  l<>  whom 
it  still  appertained — lay  upon  the  west  side;  it  had 
now  been  secularized,  —  except  one  cloister,  reached 

through   the  church,  where  dwelt    the  few  friars  left. 

I  saw  three  of  them  passing  about,       reverend,  white- 
haired  figures,  of  much  dignity  and  pathos,       tend 
ing  the  building  with  a  touching  care. 

The  interior  proved  to  be  a  nave  with  one  aisle  on 
the  right,  separated  by  four  arches,  with  n<>  transept, 
and  only  an  end  recess  f<»r  the  high-altar;  four  altars 


390  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

were  affixed  tothebare,  white,  left  wall,  and  five  chapels 
opened  from  the  aisle.  The  roof  was  flat  and  of  painted 
wood.  The  first  chapel  I  found  covered  upon  the  walls 
and  arched  coiling  with  indifferent  frescoes  by  Giolfino, 
and  bearing  over  its  altar  an  excellent  copy  of  the 
rival  canvas  of  Madonna  and  Saints  by  Cavazzola, 
which  formerly  stood  there.  The  original,  like  so  many 
of  t  he  best  pictures  of  the  churches,  had  been  removed 
to  the  city  museum.  In  the  second  chapel  was  a  good 
specimen  of  Bonsignori,  a  Madonna  with  two  saints 
and  two  baby-angels,  of  golden  tone  and  rich  coloring, 
though  little  or  no  expression.  Morone's  frescoes  in 
the  fourth  chapel  were  practically  destroyed;  but  the 
fifth  glowed  like  a  huge  jewel,  with  solid  walls  of  bright 
paintings  by  Caroto,  Giolfino,  and  Francesco  Morone, 
and  other  copies  of  Cavazzola.  At  the  end  here  was 
the  Cappella  Pellegrini  of  Sammicheli's  design,  a  beau- 
tiful domed  rotonda  faced  with  marble.  In  the  little 
choir,  to  the  left,  hung  a  very  lovely  example  of  Be- 
naglio,  a  triple  panel  in  close  imitation  of  Mantegna's 
at  S.  Zeno,  of  exceeding  grace,  high  finish,  and  glow- 
ing tone,  but  lacking  the  latter's  tender  simplicity. 
The  cloister  contained  more  frescoes  of  Giolfino,  of 
little  importance. 

But  in  the  old  library  of  the  monastery,  entered  by 
a  separate  doorway  in  the  front  street,  the  municipal 
custodian  showed  me  a  work  of  much  importance,  — 
the  truly  marvelous  frescoes  of  Francesco  Morone 
executed  in  1503.  They  extend  all  around  the  square 
wooden-roofed  chamber,  above  the  wainscoting  and 
beneath  an  exquisitely  painted  frieze  of  convoluted 
wreaths;  and  consist  of  two  rows  of  medallions  and 
portraits  of  I  lie  most  prominent  Franciscans,  with  a 
large  scene  of  life-size  figures  covering  the  end  wall. 
This  Last  is  a  most  striking  and   beautiful  composi- 


YEROXA  LA  MARMORIXA  391 

tion,  very  freely  spaced  in  a  pleasing  landscape,  — 
the  throned  Virgin  in  the  centre,  surrounded  by  angels, 
a  kneeling  bourgeois  couple  at  her  feet.  Saints  Francis 
and  Claire  standing  by  her,  and  the  five  protomartyrs 
advancing  on  one  side,  the  four  doctors  on  the  other. 
The  genuflexing  couple  are  Leonello  Sacramoso  and 
his  wife,  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  this  delight.  The 
tone  is  a  ravishing  light  blue,  which  runs  throughout 
the  robes  and  lake  and  distant  mountains  in  a  joyous 
scheme;  the  figures  are  superbly  modeled,  exceedingly 
graceful,  and  of  marked  individuality,  —  which  ap- 
plies also  to  all  the  portraits,  —  and  the  heads  are 
distinctly  powerful  and  realistic  as  to  the  men,  ten- 
derly lovely  as  to  the  Madonna. 

My  next  walks  were  through  the  southwestern  quar- 
ter, between  Corso  Cavour  and  the  lower  river,  com- 
mencing with  the  Church  of  S.  Maria  della  Scala  on 
my  own  >treet,  —  just  south  of  Via  Nuova,  —  which  was 
founded  by  Can  Grande.  It  is  stuccoed  white,  without 
and  within,  the  exterior  being  noticeable  only  for  a 
good  Renaissance  stone  doorway,  the  interior  for  its 
spacious  form,  without  aisles  or  transept,  and  its  broad 
ceiling,  plastered  and  painted  in  designs.  ( )ver  t  he  side- 
altars  stand  a  Brusasorci,  —  St.  Ursula  and  her  virgins; 
a  Giolfino,  the  descent  of  theHolyGhosI :  and  a  charm- 
ing example  of  Francesco  Morone,  —a  group  of  three 
saints,  with  donors,  and  an  Annunciation.  Mosl  in- 
teresting was  the  little  chapel  t<>  the  right  of  the  choir, 
containing  sixteen  frescoed  panels  from  the  lite  of 
S.  Filippo  Benissi,  in  the  style  of  Altichieri,  portraying 
every  sort  of  dramatic  incident,  strongly  rendered, 
witli  dignity,  and  well-drawn  figures.  Documents 
recently  discovered  seem  to  establish  that  this  was  the 
work  of  Badile,  Paolo  Veronese's  master;  but  it  must 
have  been  done  long  before  his  time. 


392  PLAIX-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Shortly  southwest  ward  now,  I  came  at  last  to  the 
Arena,  whose  mighty  dark  stone  oval  fills  the  eastern 
part  of  the  wide  Piazza  Bra.  Its  outer  wall  has  been 
entirely  demolished,  except  for  one  fragment  on  the 
northeast,  four  arches  wide  and  three  stories  high, 
enough  to  give  an  idea  of  its  former  external  appear- 
ance. The  facade  was  built  of  huge  roughened  granite 
blocks,  with  pilasters  on  the  piers  between  the  arches, 
and  corniced  string-courses,  —  simple,  but  powerful 
and  effective.  The  second  wall  —  which  everywhere 
else  is  now  the  outer  one,  and  but  two  stories  high  — 
is  constructed  of  the  same  heavy  stones,  with  inter- 
mediate floors  of  arched  composite.  —  In  the  wall 
of  a  dwelling  at  the  piazza's  southeastern  corner,  I 
saw  imbedded  fragments  of  the  earlier  Roman  city 
wall,  that  had  excluded  the  amphitheatre  —  haVing 
doubtless,  in  fact,  been  built  before  it;  and  near  by 
on  the  south  side  were  two  well-preserved  Renaissance 
frescoes  on  the  house  facades,  of  considerable  charm. 

Entering  the  Arena  by  one  of  its  northern  archways 
(it  formerly  had  forty-seven  on  the  exterior,  marked 
by  Roman  numbers  on  the  keystones),  I  stood  in  the 
long  central  oval,  surrounded  by  the  endless  swelling 
tiers  of  seats,  still  kept  smooth  and  unbroken,  which, 
vast  as  they  now  were,  reached  to  only  two  thirds 
of  their  former  height.  At  intervals  steps  ascended, 
smaller  than  the  large  blocks  forming  the  seats,  and 
every  few  yards,  above  the  five-foot  parapet,  and  along 
the  higher  tiers,  wrere  openings  for  ingress  and  egress. 
At  the  northern  and  southern  ends,  the  oval  was  par- 
tially broken  by  the  archways  giving  entrance  to 
the  centre,  topped  by  balustraded  terraces,  for  the 
seating  of  princes.  Thoughts  of  the  cruel  Roman  games 
that  had  drenched  this  same  arena  so  many  times  in 
blood,  crowded  upon  me,  with  visions  of  the  madly 


VERONA  LA  MARMORIXA  393 

shouting  populace;  —  thoughts  of  the  martyrdoms  here 
of  Saints  Fermo  and  Rustico,  and  the  hundred  and 
odd  dissenting  "Paterani "  from  Sirmione,  burned  alive 
by  Mastino  I,  in  1276;  thoughts  of  the  happier  tour- 
naments of  Renaissance  days,  the  jousts  of  Antonio 
della  Scala,  with  his  besieged  "Castle  of  Love,"  and 
the  bull-fights  introduced  toward  the  end  of  the 
eighteenth  century. 

Several  emperors  and  many  princes  enjoyed  those 
bull-fights,  including  Napoleon  the  Great,  in  1802 
and  1807.  Here  sat  the  famous  Congress  of  Sover- 
eigns of  1822,  when  the  ruling  princes  from  all  over 
Europe  witnessed  a  memorable  night-illumination  of 
the  amphitheatre.  Here  the  great  Ristori  made  her 
first  appearance,  —  and  many  another  histrionic  or 
operatic  genius.  Finally  I  thought  of  those  terrible 
days  of  the  Risorgimento,  when  these  walls  reechoed 
the  groans  and  sighs  of  wounded  Italian  prisoners;  and 
of  the  joyful  day  of  1806,  when  Victor  Emmanuel 
received  here  the  acclaiming  homage  of  the  Veronese. 
Since  then  the  structure  has  continued  to  be  occa- 
sionally used  on  festive  occasions,  with  a  number  of 
remarkably  beautiful  effects. 

The  mighty  circle,  breathing  beauty,  seems 
The  work  of  genii  in  immortal  dreams. 

So  linn  the  mass,  it  looks  as  Infill   to  vie 

With  Alps'  eternal  ramparts  towering  nigh. — 
Glistening  and  pure,  tin-  Bummer  sunbeams  fall. 
Softening  each  sculptured  arch  and  rugged  wall. 
\\.-  tread  the  Anna;  M<><>d  no  longer  Bows, 
Hut  in  tli<-  sand  tin-  pale-eyed  violel  blows.1 

A  [  gazed  over  the  extensive  Piazza  Bra  on  emerg- 
ing, il  was  a  fair  sight:  the  greal  ruin  of  the  Arena  on 
the  east,  the  imposing  Palazzo   Municipale  on   the 

BOUth, —  hi   classic  Style,   with    it-   central    portico   of 

1  Nicholas  Mil'  hell. 


894  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

eight  huge  Corinthian  columns,  —  and  the  "Grah 
Guardia  Vecchia,"  or  old  city  guard-house,  to  west,  of 
powerful,  Late-Renaissance  lines,  its  basement  rusti- 
cated and  arcaded  upon  heavy  piers,  its  lofty  piano  no- 
bile  adorned  with  coupled  Doric  half-columns  between 
the  corniced  windows;  while  on  the  north  stretched  the 
Long  row  of  bright  caffes,  with  their  extruding  tables, 
and  in  the  centre  rose  a  statue  of  Victor  Emmanuel  II, 
before  grassy  plots  filled  with  trees  and  flower-beds. 
From  the  guard-house  southward  extended  a  section 
of  the  tall  city  wall  of  the  Visconti,  made  of  brick  and 
cobblestones  in  true  medieval  style,  paralleled  by  the 
wide  Via  Pallone  to  the  river;  on  its  north  side  was 
the  so-called  Portoni,  —  a  former  city  gate,  composed 
of  two  large  arches  of  stone,  fifty  feet  high,  surmounted 
by  battlements,  with  a  flanking*  battlemented  tower 
of  brick.  Through  the  gateway  I  saw  the  broad  Corso 
Vittorio  Emanuele  extending  straightaway  southwest 
to  the  Porto  Nuova,  between  large  modern  buildings, 
including  several  prominent  palaces  of  noble  fami- 
lies. 

The  broad  low  structure  of  the  Porto  Nuova  was 
visible  in  the  distance.  We  occasionally  went  out  there 
by  tram  car,  admired  its  handsome  Renaissance 
design  by  Sammicheli,  and  took  a  delightful  walk 
outside  the  walls,  northward,  to  the  Porta  S.  Zeno, 
where  we  found  a  tram  to  convey  us  home  again. 
The  road  led  under  trees  along  the  huge  embankment 
without  the  moat,  and  past  the  colossal  bastions  of 
light  stone,  with  their  advanced  walls  and  ports,  — 
of  which  I  often  thought,  that  in  their  miles  of  great 
blocks  enough  fine  stone  had  been  used  to  rebuild 
the  whole  city,  discard  its  brick  entirely,  and  leave 
a  palatial  wonder.  But  no;  —  the  medievals  would 
economize  in   their   dwellings,  and   lavish   countless 


Yi:i:<>\.\.     ToMi:   <»K 


SO     \M>    .111,11    I 


VEROXA  LA  MARMORIXA  395 

riches  on  their  fortifications.  These  gigantic  mounds 
of  earth,  too,  within  and  without  the  fosse,  which 
stretched  Brobdingnagian  around  the  whole  vast  cir- 
cuit, and  must  have  required  the  labor  of  an  innumer- 
able host,  for  many  years,  —  imagine  embankments 
fifty  feet  high  and  a  hundred  and  fifty  wide,  made 
without  the  aid  of  steam;  —  on  them  had  been 
expended  enough  work  to  build  another  large  city. 
The  inner  bank,  and  the  enormous  moat,  are  also 
faced  with  mighty  granite  blocks,  mile  after  mile. 
Truly,  these  incredible  walls  of  earth  and  stone  arc 
one  of  the  marvels  of  the  world.  The  view  all  the  way 
was  uncommonly  lovely,  with  the  sun  upon  our  backs, 
displaying  the  wide  wooded  plain  with  its  sparkling 
white  farmhouses  and  villages,  the  towering  moun- 
tains to  west  and  north,  with  their  dark  precipitous 
flanks,  the  glittering  snow-peaks  in  the  rear,  and  the 
penetrating  gorge  of  the  Adige. — Outside  the  Porta 
Nuova,  also,  lies  the  subsidiary  railroad  station  of 
that  name,  recently  finished,  and  coming  into  much 
use. 

Just  to  the  right  of  the  Portoni  stands  the  Teatro 
Filarmonico,  with  a  handsome  Renaissance  facade, 
and  a  large  portico  of  Ionic  columns  upon  its  south 
Bide;  before  this  portico  extends  a  court,  inclosed  by 
Renaissance  arcades  of  dainty,  fluted,  Doric  columns, 
and  containing  architectural  fragments,  altars,  tab- 
lets, sculptures,  inscripi  ions,  and  ol  her  relics  of  Roman 
days,  ;ill  forming  the  Museo  Lapidario,  founded  by 
Scipionc  Maffei.  On  stepping  I  hrough  I  lie  Portoni,  one 
sees  the  old  moat  of  the  Visconti  wall,  still  flowing 
darkly  between  the  back  walls  of  houses.  One  day 
I  followed  the  wall  southward  i<>  the  river,  along  Via 
Pallone,  striking  the  stream  at  the  lowesl  city  bridge, 
Ponte  Aleardi;   and   here    to    the   right,   jusl   withoul 


S96  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

the  Visconti  moat,  in  the  former,  abandoned  grounds 
and  cemetery  of  the  Capuchin  monastery,  next  the 
Adige,  1  found  the  reputed  tomb  of  Romeo  and 
Juliet,  guarded  by  a  municipal  custodian. 

In  a  fragment  of  the  old  monastery  cloisters,  charm- 
ingly arcaded  upon  two  sides  with  slim  marble  shafts 
and  brick  arches,  rising  from  parapets,  lies  an  uncov- 
ered sarcophagus  of  red  marble,  filled  to  overflowing 
with  the  visiting-cards  of  faithful  believers, — believers 
in  spite  of  all  evidence.  The  custode  says  gravely  that 
the  lovers  were  buried  together  in  this  coffin,  in  the 
Capuchin  cemetery  close  at  hand.  Yet  there  are  sacri- 
legious persons  who  state  that  the  sarcophagus  was 
not  long  ago  a  washing-trough;  further,  that  neither 
Romeo  nor  Juliet  ever  existed  in  the  flesh,  and  con- 
sequently they  never  were  buried.  Let  one  believe  as 
he  listeth;  —  at  any  rate,  this  tomb  is  a  pretty  spot, 
framed  by  its  little  garden  on  each  side,  with  shady 
trees,  roses,  aloes,  climbing  vines,  and  other  shrubs 
and  flowers;  and  the  custode  claims  to  prove  his  story 
by  pointing  out  the  remains  of  the  monument  which 
formerly  covered  the  sarcophagus,  —  some  columns, 
and  broken  bits  of  entablature,  scattered  about  the 
grass. 

Lovers!   Ye  have  not  loved  in  vain:  the  hearts 

Of  million-,  throb  around  ye.   This  lone  tomb 

One  greater  than  Mantua's  prophet  eye  foresaw 

In  her  own  child  or  Rome's,  hath  hallowed; 

And  the  last  sod  or  stone  a  pilgrim  knee 

Shall  press  (Love  swears  it,  and  swears  it  true)  is  here.1 

There  now  remained  to  visit  on  the  western  bank 
only  the  great  Church  of  S.  Fermo,  at  the.  end  of  the 
Ponte  delle  Navi.  On  my  way  to  it  one  afternoon,  I 
-topped  to  examine  with  interest  the  so-called  Arco 
Leoni,  —  the  remains  of  a  Roman  city  gate,  built  into 

1  Walter  Savage  Landor. 


VERONA  LA  MARMORINA  397 

the  side  wall  of  a  house  on  the  east  side  of  the  Via 
Leoni,  leading  from  Piazza  Erbe  to  the  bridge;  they 
consisted  of  some  half-visible  columns  and  entabla- 
ture, of  rich  sculpturing,  —  which  probably  covered 
what  was  then,  as  now,  the  chief  entrance  to  the  an- 
cient city.  The  southern  Roman  wall,  therefore,  ran 
from  the  Adige  here,  —  just  north  of  the  Ponte  delle 
Navi,  excluding  the  latter,  —  westward  to  meet  the 
western  wall  at  a  right  angle  near  the  Arena. 

But  on  that  same  street,  close  to  Piazza  Erbe,  I  had 
first  passed  a  building  associated  with  what  has  just 
been  related,  —  the  house  of  the  Capelletti;  for  they 
were  real  people,  whatever  the  doubt  may  be  con- 
cerning their  poet-created  daughter;  and  legend  has 
always  given  this  dwelling  as  their  abode.  It  is  a  nar- 
row, five-storied  structure  of  brick,  on  the  east  side  of 
the  confined  way,  pierced  by  a  large  archway  in  the 
ground  story  and  by  four  rounded  windows  in  each 
of  the  others,  —  its  only  balcony  hnnging  on  heavy 
corbels  at  the  fourth  floor.  "Heavens!"  I  thought 
involuntarily,  "what  a  climb  poor  Romeo  had!"  — 
The  height  of  it  was  as  disenchanting  as  were  the  dirty 
vans  and  refuse  of  the  stable-yard  seen  through  the 
archway.  One  must  shut  his  eyes  to  modern  meta- 
morphoses :  — 

But  chief  we  seem  to  hear  at  evening  hour 
Th<-  sigh  nf  Juliet  in  her  starlit  bower, 
Follow  her  f<>rm  slow  gliding  through  the  gloom, 
And  drop  a  tear  upon  her  mouldered  tomb.1 

The  face  of  S.  Fermo  is  toward  the  west,  its  Qorth 
side  upon  the  Btreel  which  is  the  westward  continua- 
tion of  Ponte  delle  Navi;  bo  thai  its  fine  proportions 
are  clearly  visible.  From  the  bridge,  or  the  street, 
one  sees  a  noble  apse,  a  wide  transept,  a  tall  campanile 

I  NichoUi  MitchelL 


39S  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

rising  from  their  angle  to  a  spire  with  corner  pinnacles, 
and,  on  turning  the  transept,  a  beautiful  old  Gothic 
porch  covering  the  side  entrance,  —  a  canopy  of 
pointed  arches,  above  a  recessed  pointed  doorway, 
approached  by  fourteen  steps.  The  choir  and  transept 
are  both  of  plain  red  brick,  except  for  curious  unordered 
patches  of  light  stone;  the  nave's  side  is  also  of  brick, 
but  with  a  deep  marble  basement,  and  double  Gothic 
windows  with  marble  mullions;  its  wide  brick  Gothic 
frieze  continues  around  the  apse.  The  fagade,  looking 
upon  an  open  bay  from  the  street,  has  a  round-arched, 
deeply  recessed  portal  approached  by  spreading  steps, 
and  four  lancet  windows  overhead,  —  being  marbled 
to  the  top  of  the  ent?ance,  and  of  brick  and  marble  in 
alternate  courses  above  that.  Altogether  it  is  a  very 
lovely  and  picturesque  example  of  Lombard  Gothic, 
charming  by  its  very  oddities;  it  was  constructed  early 
in  the  trecento,  —  during  "the  period  of  vital  Chris- 
tianity, and  of  the  development  of  the  laws  of  chivalry 
and  forms  of  imagination,  which  are  founded  on  Chris- 
tianity," 1  —  and  which  are  nowhere  better  shown. 

On  entering,  by  the  customary  side  portal,  I  found 
myself  in  a  long  broad  nave,  without  aisles  or  columns, 
with  a  larch-wood  roof  like  the  Eremetani;  at  the  end 
were  three  chapels,  with  the  high-altar  in  the  centre, 
faced  by  a  semicircular  screen  of  creamy  marble  ex- 
tending into  the  nave;  and  over  the  side  wall-spaces 
not  covered  by  altars  or  monuments,  over  the  end  wall 
above  the  three  chapels,  was  a  world  of  old  frescoing,  in 
every  hue  and  state  of  decay,  glowing  like  a  vast  cloud- 
land  of  antique  saints  and  angels.  A  lovely  Annuncia- 
tion on  the  left  wall,  showing  the  Virgin's  bedchamber 
within  a  quaint  Gothic  dwelling,  is  the  only  other  relic 
of  Pisanello's  painting  in  Verona;  the  rest  of  them  — 

1  Ruskin,  Verona,  and  Other  Lectures. 


VERONA  LA  MARMORINA  399 

Madonnas,  Crucifixions,  groups  of  saints,  martyrdoms 
—  are  by  Martini,  Stefano  da  Zevio,  and  other  early 
Veronese  masters,  —  in  delightful  soft  old  tints,  ex- 
hibiting dignity  and  deep  feeling.  The  first  chapel  to 
the  left,  some  way  down,  holds  Caroto's  beautiful 
pala  of  the  Madonna  and  St.  Anne  in  glory,  with  saints 
below,  —  forms  wondrously  moulded,  of  exceeding 
grace  and  softness,  with  a  striking  maternal  joy  and 
pride  in  the  fair  face  of.  the  Virgin.  Next  this  opens 
a  little  room  containing  Riccio's  brilliant,  luxurious, 
marble  monument  to  Girolamo  della  Torre,  with 
bronze  plates  of  reliefs,  and  supporting  sphinxes, 
that  are  but  copies  of  the  originals  taken  to  Paris, 
but  possessing  still  the  original  charming  frieze 
around  the  marble  base,  and  its  exquisitely  sculptured 
columns. 

There  are  further  a  canvas  of  Libera le,  two  of  Tor- 
bido,  examples  of  Farinato  and  Brusasorci,  a  fine, 
Gothic,  trecento  pulpit,  and  a  small  chapel  in  the  right 
transept  containing  tombs  of  titled  descendants  of 
Dante.  But  the  greatest  interest  of  all  lies  in  the  ex- 
tensive crypt,  —  the  remains  of  a  very  early  church 
over  which  the  later  one  was  erected.  It  is  reached 
by  a  stairway,  through  the  sacristy;  and  its  various 
kinds  of  early  columns  and  bits  of  frescoing,  endowed 
with  in  tense  significance  for  the  antiquarian,  date  as  far 
back  in  some  instances  as  the  latter  part  of  the  eighth 
century. 

Across  the  bridge  from  S.  Fermo,  and  just   to  the 
right  on  the  broad  tree-lined  quay,  facing  the  rivei 
stands  the  Palazzo  Pompei  containing  tin'  city's  art 

Collections.     Its  two-storied   stone  facade   is  of    most 

at  tractive  Renaissance  lines,  a  rusticated  base- 
ment, and  piano  nobUe  of  I  >oric  half-columns  support- 
ing a  Doric  frieze  and  cornice,  with  window-  capped 


400  PLAIN  TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

by  masks.  But  leaving  its  contents  to  the  last,  I 
passed  it  by  one  morning  on  my  way  to  visit  the  rest 
of  the  eastern  quarter,  —  to  inspect  again  the  fine 
old  churches  scattered  through  its  silent  streets.  First 
in  modem  interest,  however,  is  the  great  cemetery 
to  the  south,  just  without  the  fortifications,  reached 
from  the  eastern  end  of  Ponte  Aleardi  by  a  splendid 
avenue  of  tall  trees. 

Entirely  surrounding  it  in  the  Italian  style  is  a  vast 
square  structure,  with  a  classic  portico  on  its  western 
front;  high  colonnades  run  around  its  inner  sides, 
adorned  with  countless  tombs,  in  and  against  the  walls. 
These  are  decorated  with  many  modern  sculptures, 
in  the  recent  style  addicted  to  realism  and  minute 
details,  —  such  as  the  family  weeping  over  their  dead. 
The  huge,  rectangular  grass  plot  in  the  centre  is  one 
mass  of  graves,  headstones,  flat  stones,  and  monu- 
ments, with  shrubs  and  flowers,  but  no  trees;  and  the 
graves  are  kept  always  fresh  with  flowers  as  none  but* 
Italians  do.  One  time  we  were  present  on  the  annual 
"Day  of  the  Dead,"  when  the  whole  city  seemed  to 
have  turned  its  steps  that  way,  clad  in  sad  clothes  and 
burdened  with  wreaths  and  blossoms;  it  was  a  wonder- 
ful sight  to  see  this  mourning,  unanimous  multitude, 
depositing  their  tributes  of  undying  affection,  and 
praying  over  their  departed. 

The  first  church  to  which  I  went  was  S.  Paolo  di 
Campo  Marzo,  to  the  right  on  Via  Venti  Settembre, 
but  a  few  rods  from  the  bridge.  It  has  a  simple,  stuc- 
coed, Renaissance  facade,  with  a  stone  tower,  and  a 
simple  nave  without  aisles  or  columns;  over  a  side  altar 
is  one  of  Girolamo  dai  Libri's  delightful  pictures  of 
the  Madonna  and  Saints,  beautiful  beyond  expression; 
in  a  chapel  off  the  right  transept,  a  similar  canvas  by 
Paolo  Veronese,  of  considerable  grace,  —  also  some 


VEROXA  LA  MARMORINA  401 

injured  frescoes  by  him,  and  a  panel  by  Bonsignori; 
in  the  sacristy,  a  handsome  Caroto,  —  the  Madonna 
with  Saints  Peter  and  Paul,  of  which  the  Madonna 
possesses  a  grand,  imperial  form,  of  exceeding  beauty, 
superbly  drawn  and  moulded.  There  are,  further,  some 
of  the  works  of  Farinato. 

Next  I  wandered  to  Veronetta's  chief  church,  SS. 
Nazzaro  e  Celso,  farther  to  the  east  at  the  foot  of  the 
heights,  on  the  long  street  diverging  from  Via  Venti 
Settembre  near  the  gate,  and  running  fairly  straight 
to  Ponte  di  Pietra.  The  first  S.  Nazzaro  was  a  grotto 
in  the  face  of  the  hill,  where  the  earliest  Christians 
worshiped  in  troublous  times;  I  found  it  behind  a 
machine  factory  on  the  right  of  the  present  edifice,  — 
several  connected  chambers  hewn  in  the  cliff,  with 
lingering  fragments  of  quaint  frescoes  of  that  remote 
period,  probably  the  fifth  century.  The  holy  place 
has  been  desecrated,  and  the  paintings  almost  en- 
tirely destroyed  by  the  machinists  who  ply  their  trade 
there  in  an  adjunct  to  the  main  factory.  I  am  sur- 
prised that  the  city,  usually  so  alert,  has  not  long 
ago  adopted  preservative  measures. 

The  present  church  was  first  built  in  the  eleventh 
century,  and  then  restored  in  the  sixteenth,  when  its 
five  aisles  were  made  into  three.  Before  it  extends  ;i 
wide  inclosed  court,  having  a  curious  decadent  Renais- 
sance gateway,  upheld  by  four  Doric  columns  ap- 
parently tied  with  stone  mourning-cloths, and  having 
a  frieze  of  papal  tiaras.  The  brick,  gabled  facade,  w  it  li 
lean-to  aisles,  has  a  Gothic  marble  doorway,  two  long 
windows,  and  a  very  pretty,  sculptured  rose-window. 
The  interior  is  usually  closed,  and  I  remember  I  bad  a 
long  hunt  through  the  neighborhood  tofindanassistanl 

sacristan  with  a  key  to  the  side  door.  Once  entered,  J 

saw  a  rather  low,  groined  oave,  separated  by  stucco 


402  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

pillars  and  round  arches  from  still  lower  aisles;  the 
latter  with  pointed  vaultings,  and  side  altars  directly 
against  their  walls;  the  choir  deeply  recessed  behind 
a  Gothic  triumphal  arch,  with  no  flanking  chapels. 
Over  the  side  altars  were  paintings  by  Farinato  and 
Brusasorci,  and  a  true  example  of  Badile,  a  charming 
Madonna  and  Saints,  of  rich  tone  and  good  execution. 
The  chief  interest  lay  in  the  Capella  S.  Biagio,  off 
the  left  transept,  —  one  of  Verona's  foremost  artistic 
shrines.  It  was  heavily  frescoed  by  Falconetto,  Cavaz- 
zola,  and  Montagna;  the  latter's  work  being  especially 
strong  and  dramatic,1  Cavazzola's  especially  lovely. 
The  pala  was  a  glorious  Bonsignori,  with  exquisite 
predelle  by  Girolamo  dai  Libri,  —  perfect  gems  of 
painting;  and  upon  the  left  wall  hung  an  entrancing 
Madonna  and  Saints  by  Moretto. 

The  walls  of  the  choir  held  large  scenes  from  the 
lives  of  Saints  Nazzaro  and  Celso,  by  Farinato,  of 
much  dramatic  interest;  the  sacristy  contained  two 
excellent  canvases  of  Montagna,  and  a  curious  trip- 
tych of  Benaglio;  with  two  more  Montagnas  — strong, 
clear  works  —  on  its  outer  wall. 

My  next  object  was  of  a  very  different  nature,  —  a 
pleasant  change  from  churches.  About  halfway  up 
the  street  already  mentioned  stands  the  large  Palazzo 
Giusti,  with  a  long,  Renaissance,  stuccoed  facade,  and 
in  the  rear  lie  its  celebrated  gardens,  extending  well  up 
the  hillside.  A  central  archway  admitted  me  to  the 
courtyard,  backed  by  an  iron  grille;  and  through  an 
opened  gate  in  the  latter  the  portiere  made  me  free  of 
the  grounds.  A  magnificent  sight  now  rose  before  me, 
—  the  stateliest  avenue  that  could  be  imagined,  lined 

1  These  frescoes,  together  with  the  canvases  in  the  sacristy,  give  one 
really  a  better  conception  of  the  full  powers  of  Bart.  Montagna  than  his 
works  in  his  native  city,  Vicenza. 


VERONA  LA  MARMORINA  403 

by  two  rows  of  tall  black  cypresses,  leading  straight- 
away across  the  level  and  grandly  up  the  steep  slope, 
to  a  balustraded  stone  terrace  perched  far  aloft,  and 
to  another  line  of  cypresses  extended  at  right  angles 
along  the  height,  backed  by  a  graceful  wood.  It  had 
much  of  the  impressive  loveliness  of  the  Villa  d'  Este. 
To  right  and  left  upon  the  restricted  level  stretched 
inviting  swards,  glowing  flower-beds,  banks  of  shrub- 
bery, fountains,  and  water-basins;  climbing  vines  had 
verdurously  beautified  the  walls  of  palace  and  eneeint- 
ure;  an  artist  was  painting  a  picturesque  building  on 
the  left,  quite  overgrown  with  creepers. 

I  ascended  the  avenue,  and  wandered  up  the  wooded 
hillside  by  winding,  shady  paths,  which  led  me  at  last 
to  the  open  terrace;  thence  extended  an  enchanting 
prospect,  —  the  lofty  cypresses  and  seductive  gardens, 
the  ivy-clad  palace,  the  far-sweeping  ocean  of  tiled 
roofs  with  soaring  towers,  the  distant,  haze-covered 
plain,  and  the  imposing  mountains  looming  to  the 
north. 

Verona,  thy  tall  pardons  stand  erect, 
Beckoning  me  upward.    Ii<'l  me  rest  awhile 
Where  the  birds  whistle  hidden  in  the  boughs.1 

And  rest  I  did,  lulled  to  a  dreamy  state  by  the  whis- 
perings of  the  leaves,  gazing  visionary  over  the  storied 
scene  before  me. 

It  was  still  another  day,  therefore,  when  I  advanced 
to  finish  Veronetla's  sights,  crossing  I  he  Adige  by  the 
modern  iron  Ponte  Umberto,  opposite  I  lie  Giusti  gar- 
dens. This  course  brought  me  firsl  i"  the  Church  <»i' 
S.  Tommaso  Cantuariense,  or  St.  Thomas  <>f  Canter* 
bury,  just  beyond  the  bridge,  situated  upon  what  was 

formerly  an  island  in  the  river;  but    the  eastern  arm 

1  Walter  Savage  Landor. 


404  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

has  been  filled  up,  forming  now  the  wide  street  known 
as  "Interrato  dell'  Aequa  Morta,"  which  bends  from 
quay  to  quay  in  a  long  curve.  The  church  has  a  fine, 
regular,  Gothic  facade  of  brick,  with  a  recessed  door- 
way, and  one  rose-  and  two  long  windows  of  geomet- 
rical tracery.  The  street  on  its  left  side  is  illuminated 
by  three  house  fronts  with  well-preserved  frescoes,  one 
or  two  of  them  in  Caroto's  bright  style,  and  one  a  fair 
copy  of  Leonardo's  Last  Supper. 

Entering,  I  found  a  strange,  lofty,  white-stuccoed 
interior,  adorned  with  four  varied  altars  on  each  side, 
having  no  transept,  and  three  chapels  in  the  end  wall, 
with  the  high-altar  in  the  middle  one.  Here  lay  the 
great  Sammicheli,  under  his  bust  in  the  right  wall; 
near  it  were  two  splendid  paintings,  a  Liberale  and  a 
Girolamo  dai  Libri,  and  in  the  little  sacristy  I  saw  the 
beautiful,  moving  picture  by  Garofalo,  —  a  Madonna 
with  the  infants  Jesus  and  John,  —  which  has  been 
made  so  familiar  to  all  the  world  by  countless  repro- 
ductions. Behind  the  high-altar  hung  a  shapely 
Caroto,  and  over  the  left  altars  stood  two  of  those 
numberless  lovely  pictures  of  Madonna  and  Child  by 
unknown  masters  of  the  Veronese  school. 

I  then  proceeded  to  my  last  great  church,  S.  Maria 
in  Organo,  which  stands  a  little  north  of  Palazzo 
Giusti,  backing  upon  its  street  from  the  west,  and 
entered  from  the  said  Acqua  Morta.  Close  by  is  the 
Via  Seminaria,  with  the  Episcopal  College,  a  large 
seminary,  a  huge  monastery  made  into  a  barrack,  a 
fine  palace  or  two,  and  some  dainty,  alluring,  Renais- 
sance balconies.  S.  Maria,  founded  as  far  back  as  the 
seventh  century,  but  now  a  structure  of  the  twelfth, 
though  not  a  large  church,  is  one  of  Verona's  principal 
treasure-houses.  Behind  the  usual  Veronese  courtyard 
it  raises  a  droll,  unfinished,  low  facade,  marble-faced 


VEROXA  LA  MARMORIXA  405 

to  the  height  of  the  Renaissance  portal  and  ground- 
windows,  —  which  are  separated  by  Corinthian  half- 
columns,  —  and  of  unadorned  red  brick  and  white 
stone  in  the  flat  gable. 

The  interior  is  still  more  curious:  a  short,  low, 
round-arched  nave,  very  dark,  with  wide-open  aisles 
separated  by  four  slight  columns  on  each  side;  a  tran- 
sept elevated  by  six  steps,  with  a  chapel  at  each  end 
and  one  on  each  side  of  the  choir;  the  vaultings  all 
painted  with  designs  and  arabesques;  the  walls  above 
the  low  side  arches  covered  with  Old  Testament  scenes 
by  Francesco  Morone.  This  remarkable  wealth  of 
diversified  color,  in  designs,  frescoed  pictures,  and 
glowing  canvases  everywhere  the  eye  turns,  makes 
a  spectacle  of  Oriental  splendor.  Morone's  pal  a  in  the 
third  altar  recess  to  the  left  is  better  preserved,  more 
finished,  and  more  beautiful  than  his  frescoes,  —  being 
an  utterly  fascinating  group  of  Madonna  and  Saints, 
of  unsurpassable  richness.  Savoldo's  gorgeous  j>uhi 
next  it  is  almost  equally  entrancing;  making  a  pair  of 
canvases  that  can  never  be  forgotten.  The  walnut 
choir-seats  before  the  high-altar  are  exceptionally 
adorned,  having  painted  landscapes  on  their  backs  by 
Cavazzola  and  Brusasorci;  the  latter  has  three  power- 
ful frescoes  in  and  above  the  chapel  to  the  lefl  of  tin' 
choir;  and  the  chapel  to  the  right  contains  three  real- 
istic tableaux  by  Giolfino. 

At  the  end  of  the  right  transepl  a  stranger  enters, 
the  brilliant  Guercinoof  Bologna,  with  two  canvases 
amongst  the  most  striking  in  Verona,  -two  jewels 
of  a  wondrous,  glittering  finish,  superbly  modeled  and 
true  to  life,  yet  lovely  beyond  all  words;  one  represents 
S.  Francesea  Romans  with  an  angel,  -    the  other,  the 

same  figures,  with  the  addition  of  the  saint's  brothel 

and  several  companions  and  guards.    A  third  <>u<r- 


106  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF   ITALY 

( ino,  once  also  here  but  now  in  Rome,  has  been 
replaced  by  a  copy.  Near  these,  aloft,  are  three 
frescoed  figures,  of  the  Archangels  with  Tobias,  by 
Cavazzola. 

The  finest  of  all  the  treasures,  however,  lie  in  the 
retro-choir  and  the  adjacent  sacristy,  —  gems  of  art 
to  which  I  have  many  a  time  returned  in  joy.  Amidst 
the  splendid,  carved  choir-stalls  stands  a  marvelous 
candelabrum  of  ebony  and  walnut,  sculptured  with 
richest  details  by  the  genius  of  Fra  Giovanni  da  Ver- 
ona, who  was  a  member  here  of  the  monastic  brother- 
hood of  Monte  Oliveto,  to  whom  the  church  formerly 
belonged;  and  the  sacristy  has  been  turned  by  him 
into  a  veritable  temple  of  wood-carving  and  tarsia. 
All  around  it  stretches  a  high  oaken  paireling  of  inde- 
scribably delicate  sculpturing,  —  columns,  cornice, 
arches,  frieze,  and  entablature,  all  radiant  with  an 
endless  variety  of  minutest  designs  and  arabesques; 
and  between  the  columns  are  the  paneled  backs  of 
seats,  more  remarkable  still,  with  tarsia  of  incred- 
ible deceptiveness  and  fertile  fancy,  —  not  merely 
the  usual  objects  of  everyday  life,  but  scenes  with 
the  perspective  and  atmosphere  of  painting,  show- 
ing streets,  palaces,  castles,  towns,  and  landscapes. 
Though  not  advancing  to  the  depiction  of  human 
life,  attained  by  the  Bergamasque  masters  alone,  in 
their  own  class  these  stand  at  the  head.  One  inter- 
esting scene  depicts  in  its  background  the  ruinous 
Castle  of  Theodoric,  as  it  looked  about  1500. 

Over  the  paneling,  next  the  ceiling,  extends  a  series 
of  frescoed  portraits  of  the  monks  of  Oliveto,  by 
Morone,  of  speaking  lifelikeness  and  strongest  indi- 
viduality; including  Fra  Giovanni  himself,  with  his 
hair  whitened  by  his  task  of  many  years.  Most  of  the 
others  are  popes,  kings,  princes,  doges,  and  great  men 


V'EROXA.     \  II  w     IN     I  in     '.M      I  I    '.  \i:i-i 


VERONA  LA  MARMORIXA  4u7 

of  the  world;  and  the  sacristan  indicates  two  of  them 
who  were  ex-monarchs  of  Britain  in  the  eighth  cen- 
tury. On  the  ceiling  is,  further,  a  half-figure  of  the 
Saviour,  surrounded  by  a  circle  of  putti-heads;  and  in 
one  corner  hangs  a  very  lovely  Madonna  and  Saints, 
by  Girolamo  dai  Libri,  — or,  as  Mr.  Berenson  thinks, 
by  Mocetto  of  Venice.1 

From  S.  Maria  I  repaired  to  the  little,  ancient 
Church  of  S.  Giovanni  in  Valle,  shortly  to  the  north 
upon  the  slope  of  the  hill,  —  a  quaint  edifice  dating 
from  the  fifth  century,  and  practically  unchanged  from 
Romanesque  days.  Its  small  facade  is  distinguished 
by  naught  but  a  fresco  of  Stefano  da  Zevio  over  the 
doorway,  bright  and  pleasing;  its  narrow  wooden- 
roofed  nave  —  with  alternate  pillars  of  white  stone 
and  columns  of  Verona  marble,  having  diverse,  queer, 
old  capitals  —  ends  in  a  choir  raised  above  seven 
central  steps,  with  side  steps  descending  to  the  crypt. 
The  walls  above  the  low  side  arches,  once  covered 
with  frescoes,  are  now  white  and  bare,  with  a  few 
tiny  Romanesque  windows;  but  a  graceful  picture 
by  Bertolini,  and  a  fresco  of  Stefano  da  Zevio.  dec- 
orate the  right  aisle.  In  the  small  crypt,  upheld  by 
six  ancient  marble  columns  and  two  strange,  taper- 
ing pillars,  I  found  two  early  Christian  sarcophagi, 
covered  with  reliefs  of  extraordinary  realism  and  dig- 
nity; and  in  the  sacristy,  several  Fairly  good  Renais- 
sance paintings.  In  the  yard  <>n  the  right  was  visible 
a  fragment  of  the  long-demolished  cloisters,  a  colon- 
nade, with  charming  little  coupled  columns,  ofgreal 
antiquity. 

1  It  ii  certainly  much  in  the  ityle  ol  the  beautiful  canvai    '  M 
in  the  Vicenza  gallery,  and  would  raiae  -till  higher  the  fame  "f  thai  re- 
tiring pupil  "f  Bellini.  '»"  the  othei  band.  Ii"«  account  for  the  peculiar 

lemon  tree,  (iirol.iniu'.s  i-iublem  ? 


408  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

From  here  I  proceeded  to  the  ruined  Roman  theatre, 
near  the  Ponte  di  Pietra,  stopping  a  moment  on  the 
way  to  inspect  the  Gothic,  brick  fagade  of  the  little 
Church  of  S.  Chiara,  with  its  marble  portal  and  pretty 
windows,  and  its  quaint1  medieval  relief  of  a  giant  Ma- 
donna protecting  devotees  with  her  cloak.  SS.  Siro  e 
Libera,  another  very  early  church,  built  high  upon  one 
side  of  the  theatre,  had  been  closed  and  was  to  be  taken 
down.  This  clearing-away,  and  much  other  recent  ex- 
cavation, had  laid  bare  most  of  the  Roman  remains, 
as  I  had  observed  them  from  the  hilltop;  it  was  still 
more  interesting  to  walk  about  the  pavement  of  the 
pit,  through  the  unroofed  antechambers,  over  the  frag- 
ments of  the  marbled  stage,  and,  climbing  the  lofty 
seats,  left  here  and  there  in  broken  patches,  to  call  up 
visions  of  the  magnificent  spectacles  that  once  had 
been  enacted  there  below.  Even  marine  spectacles 
had  had  their  place,  on  seas  of  real  water,  pumped 
from  the  adjacent  river.  How  far  they  were  ahead  of 
our  little  modern  shows! 

At  last,  one  day,  I  bent  my  steps  to  the  city  museum, 
and  began  a  slow  investigation  of  its  countless  trea- 
sures. It  has  a  marvelous  collection  of  paintings, 
especially  for  so  small  a  city,  —  nineteen  rooms  filled 
to  overflowing,  —  which  must  certainly  be  ranked 
next  to  the  municipal  galleries  of  Florence,  Venice, 
and  Milan;  and  above  all,  here  alone  can  one  obtain  a 
comprehensive  idea  of  the  glorious  art  of  Verona.  The 
entrance  hall  opens  directly  upon  a  square  court, 
packed  with  pieces  of  ancient  sculpture  and  architect- 
ure; in  the  many  rooms  extending  to  the  rear  of  it,  I 
inspected   the   collections   of   Roman   and   Etruscan 

1  By  this  I  mean,  executed  with  exceptional  quaintess  ;  for  of  course 
it  was  customary  in  the  trecento  thus  to  depict  the  Madonna,  personify- 
ing the  Church. 


VERONA  LA  MARMORINA  409 

coins,  vases,  bronzes,  and  reliefs,  of  prehistoric  tombs 
and  antiquities,  of  fossils  and  natural  history  speci- 
mens, of  medieval  statuary,  and  other  sculptures. 
On  the  staircase,  to  the  left  of  the  entrance  hall,  began 
the  overflowing  paintings;  —  seven  framed  frescoes  of 
Giolfino,  representing  the  arts  and  sciences,  and  three 
works  of  Paolo  Veronese,  greeting  me  as  I  climbed  to 
the  upper  floor.  I  emerged  at  its  northern  end,  with 
the  first  half-dozen  rooms  of  the  series  stretching  be- 
fore me  southward  along  the  facade;  and  these  con- 
tained the  chief  of  the  treasures.  The  stairway  and 
landing  being  numbered  I,  and  the  office  to  its  right 
—  with  some  unimportant  pictures  —  numbered  n, 
therefore  with  the  large  room  in,  directly  before  me, 
the  collection  proper  began. 

Space  forbids  more  than  the  slightest  summary. 
This  room  in  contained  the  earlier  Veronese  works, 
of  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries,  in  which  the 
gallery  is  not  very  rich,  —  Pisanello  and  his  pupils, 
and  some  unknown  masters;  all  quaint, pietistic works, 
with  slim,  graceful  figures,  in  the  already  partly  de- 
veloped, rich,  Veronese  coloring.  Room  iv  was  chiefly 
Liberale's,  —  a  delightful  aggregation  of  pictures,  wit  li 
figures  possessing  his  peculiar,  fine,  lighl  skin,  and 
fleecy,  golden  hair,  of  his  nameless,  peculiar  charm, 
that  gives  such  spiritual  beauty  to  the  rough-hewu 
faces.  Room  v  was  mainly  Girolamo's,  and  therefore 
more  aglow  with  unadulterated,  serene  beauty  than 
any  other;  —exquisite  groups  of  heavenly  forms, 
gathered  around  the  Madonna,  under  his  emblem  of 
the  lemon  tree.  But  here  also  stood  Caroto's  famous 
group  of  the  three  Archangels  with  Tobias,  nearly 
life-size  figures,  of  a  startling,  unearthly  loveliness  and 
power,  unlike  any  others  ever  painted.  Room  <rc,  al 
the  end,  belonged  to  Moroneand  Cavazzola,  contain- 


410  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

ing  the  hitter's  wonderful  set  of  masterpieces  depicting 
the  Passion,  in  whose  unutterably  dazzling  brilliancy 
of  hue  the  Verona  coloring  found  its  meridian. 

Of  the  rear  chambers,  room  ix  contained  Torbido's 
bewitching  Tobias  and  the  Angel,  a  splendid  Baptism 
of  Christ  by  Paolo  Veronese,  and  some  other  fine  mis- 
cellaneous pieces;  room  xiv,  a  gracious,  life-size  fresco 
by  Fr.  Morone;  room  xvu,  some  specimens  of  other 
schools,  including  an  excellent,  characteristic  Perugino, 
a  resplendent  La  Francia,  and  a  captivating  panel  of 
the  Magi,  in  an  enchanting  landscape  (number  95) 
by  Eusebio  di  S.  Giorgio,  Perugino's  gifted  disciple. 
Room  xix,  finally,  was  a  superb  collection  from  other 
schools,  numerous  and  valuable;  among  them  I  espe- 
cially enjoyed  a  very  curious  but  characteristic  Carlo 
Crivelli,  two  golden,  serene  Cimas,  Mantegna's  Holy 
Family  with  an  Angel, —  of  remarkable  modeling  and 
lifelikeness, —  Palma  Vecchio's  glorious  Magi,  Boni- 
fazio's  striking  Last  Supper,  Moretto's  extraordinary 
Head  of  Christ,  Lanzani's  beautiful  Madonna  with 
infants,  Mansueti's  Madonna  and  St.  Jerome,  in  an 
inspiring  landscape,  and  two  of  Gian  Bellini's  lovely, 
dreamy  Madonnas.  There  were  also  three  rooms  filled 
with  modern  paintings,  whose  pettiness  would  give  a 
shock  to  any  soul,  after  visiting  the  lofty  spheres  of 
the  grandeur  and  genius  of  old. 

I  have  already  spoken  of  the  castles  lying  about 
Verona,  which  belonged  mostly  to  the  Scaligers  in 
their  day.  The  principal  ones  still  standing,  in  more  or 
less  ruinous  condition,  are  nine  in  number,  —  five 
upon  the  west  of  the  Adige,  four  upon  the  east;  and 
no  visit  to  Verona  is  complete  without  some  knowledge 
of  them.  Those  to  the  east  are  reached  by  carriage 
or  steam  tramway  from  the  Porta  Vescovo,  along  the 


VERONA  LA  MARMORINA  411 

base  of  the  hills,  parallel  with  the  railway.  In  two 
miles  one  arrives  at  the  village  of  San  Michele,  birth- 
place of  the  great  architect;  not  very  far  from  which 
is  the  picturesque  castle  of  Montorio,  perched  upon  a 
height  with  three  great  towers,  commanding  a  beau- 
tiful view  of  the  village-dotted  landscape,  and  the 
battlemented  city  wall  of  Verona  crowning  the  west- 
ern ridges.  It  is  closed  to  the  public;  but  on  one 
occasion  two  ladies  of  our  party  succeeded  in  penetrat- 
ing, only  to  find  an  empty  shell.  Originally  erected 
in  Roman  times,  it  was  still  intact  when  used  by  the 
Scaligers. 

But  the  chief  Scala  castle,  and  perhaps  the  most  in- 
teresting of  North  Italy,  is  at  Soave, -- already 
mentioned  as  seen  from  the  passing  train.  There  the 
gay  Court  often  betook  itself  for  rest;  there  the  princes 
hunted  and  hawked,  and  Dante  passed  lazy  summer 
days  with  Can  Grande.  The  tram  above  mentioned 
carried  me  one  day  to  Soave  village,  which  I  found  sur- 
rounded by  a  picturesque  wall  and  moat,  with  a  pon- 
derous, well-preserved,  battlemented  gateway,  whose 
open  arch  framed  a  charming  vista  of  the  main  street. 
with  its  stuccoed,  sun-beaten  buildings.  At  its  north- 
ern end  I  came  to  the  large,  classic  fagade  of  the  par- 
ish-church, whose  spacious  basilica-interior  proved  to 
contain  a  magnificent  canvas  of  Dom.  Morone,  in 
the  choir,  —  a  Madonna  and  Saints  of  resplendenl 
coloring.  Opposite,  and  al  the  street's  adjacent  fork- 
ing, rose  two  fine  old  (Jot hie  palaces,  with  battle- 
ments, remains  of  frescoes,  and  an  arcaded  loggia 
with  a  delightful,  Gothic,  marble  stairway.  Here,  in 
a  pharmacy  I  obtained  the  requisite  i>miicss<>  ;  and 
climbed  the  steep  hillside  on  the  east,  to  the  towered 
c.-i-i  le. 

It  is  the  only  one  of  them  .-ill  which  has  been  re- 


412  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

stored,  —  and  that  accurately,  in  its  medieval  style. 
Its  Lofty,  well-conditioned  walls  once  formed  a  link 
id  those  of  the  town,  which  still  creep  up  the  slope 
on  each  hand;  and  its  main  entrance  was  on  the  outer, 
eastern  side,  over  the  town  moat  by  a  drawbridge,  — 
through  a  guard-tower,  outer  court,  and  inner,  port- 
cullised  gateway.    So  I  entered,  as  did  the  Scaligers, 

—  to  avoid  passing  through  the  town,  —  and  stood 
in  the  large,  rectangular,  main  courtyard,  with  the 
battlements  on  three  sides  and  the  inner  court  on  the 
left.  Traversing  a  final  wall,  I  reached  that  inner 
courtyard,  on  the  southern  and  highest  point  of  the 
hilltop,  —  a  semicircular  inclosure,  that  formerly 
held  all  the  residential  buildings  of  the  princes.  Of 
those  there  now  remained  but  a  two-storied  stone 
structure  in  the  west  corner,  and  the  great  keep  in  the 
middle  of  the  curving  southern  wall,  —  this  of  brick, 
though  the  fortifications  were  mostly  of  stone.  In 
the  ground-floor  of  the  building  I  saw  the  long  guard- 
room, with  the  guards'  rude  beds,  tables,  stands  of 
arms,  etc.,  all  restored  as  in  the  days  of  Can  Grande; 
up  the  picturesque  outer  stairway,  overhung  by  a  very 
lovely  iron  lantern,  I  found  five  interesting  rooms,  also 
accurately  remodeled  in  decorations  and  furnishings, 

—  two  drawing-rooms,  a  bedchamber,  a  dining-room 
and  a  cabinet. 

Here  were  tables,  chairs,  drawers,  etc.,  all  quaintly 
carved  in  trecento  fashion,  lamps  and  stands  of  decorat- 
ive wrought  iron,  a  huge  canopied  bed,  and  a  dining- 
table  carefully  set  with  crudely  figured  majolica  ware, 
half-opaque  blue  glassware  in  medieval  goblets  and  de- 
canters, large  earthen  pitchers  for  wine,  and  curiously 
shaped  forks  and  spoons,  —  just  then  coming  into 
princely  use;  also  arms  and  armor,  and  walls  frescoed 
in  trecento  manner,  including  one  original  figure  of  that 


VERONA  LA  MARMORINA  413 

period;  —  in  a  word,  every  furnishing  and  disposition 
to  give  a  picture  of  that  far-off  life  as  exact  as  if  one 
were  living  it  here  and  now.  Very  crude,  we  should 
call  it,  —  the  picturesqueness  soon  vanishing  before 
an  acquaintance  with  its  discomforts  and  lack  of  re- 
finements. Yet  to  Can  Grande  and  his  contemporaries 
it  seemed  an  age  of  wondrous  luxury;  and  so  it  was, 
compared  with  the  life  of  their  grandfathers,  but  one 
century  previous. 

"In  those  times,  says  a  writer  about  the  year  1300, 
speaking  of  the  age  of  Frederick  II  (1200-ll250),  the 
manners  of  the  Italians  were  rude.  A  man  and  his 
wife  ate  off  the  same  plate.  There  were  no  wooden- 
handled  knives,  nor  more  than  one  or  two  drinking- 
cups  in  a  house.  Candles  of  wax  or  tallow  were  un- 
known; a  servant  held  a  torch  during  supper.  The 
clothes  of  men  were  of  leather,  unlined;  scarcely  any 
gold  or  silver  was  seen  on  their  dress.  ...  A  small 
stock  of  corn  seemed  riches.  .  '.  .  The  pride  of  man 
was  to  be  well  provided  with  arms  and  horses;  that 
of  the  nobility,  to  have  lofty  towers,  of  which  all 
the  cities  of  Italy  were  full.  But  now,  frugality  has 
been  changed  for  sumptuousness;  everything  exquis- 
ite is  sought  after  in  dress, — gold,  silver,  pearls, 
silks,  and  rich  furs.  Foreign  wines  and  rich  meats  are 
required."1  Such  was  the  alteration  in  one  hundred 
years,  —  to  the  days  of  Dante  and  Giotto,  shown  in 
this  castle. 

Remains  of  the  earlier  periods  were  visible  in  lance 
heads,  truncheons,  other  implements,  and  coins,  found 
on  the  premises;  and  more  stirring  still,  were  Roman 
coins,  lost  by  the  Roman  occupants  sixteen  centuries 

ago,  and    now  brought   again   to  the  light.     An  uppei 

door  let  meoul  upon  the  adjacenl  battlements  in  the 

1  I l.ill.-trn.  Middle  Agtt,  rol.  n.  pari  i.  chap.  ix. 


414  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

rear,  whose  promenade  looked  down  the  steep  hill- 
side, rich  with  vine  and  olive,  guarded  by  the  descend- 
ing city  wall  with  its  crumbling  towers,  to  the  town 
far  below,  shining  cheerfully  in  the  green  fields, — 
the  wooded,  dark  foothills  and  Alps  to  the  north,  and 
the  limitless  plain  upon  the  south.  I  climbed  the 
mighty,  hollow  keep  to  its  lofty  summit,  whence  the 
view  was  still  more  extensive;  at  its  bottom  yet  re- 
mained the  horrible  pit,  where  they  once  tossed  the 
bodies  of  the  condemned. 

In  the  centre  of  the  inner  courtyard,  lingered  the 
ancient,  worn  well-head,  upon  which  Dante  must 
often  have  leaned  or  sat,  while  pacing  the  green  be- 
tween the  palatial  buildings,  now  gone. 

At  Can  La  Grande's  court,  no  doubt, 
Due  reverence  did  his  steps  attend; 
The  ushers  on  his  path  would  bend 
At  ingoing  as  at  going  out.1 

The  buildings  for  the  lodging  of  the  servants,  men- 
at-arms,  and  horses,  doubtless  encircled  the  outer 
courtyard;  but  they  have  all  disappeared.  I  crossed  it 
again,  and  departed  by  another  gate  on  the  north  side, 
under  an  ancient  fresco  of  the  Madonna. 

Thence,  by  carriage  to  Caldiero  and  up  the  Illasi 
Valley,  I  journeyed  to  the  village  and  castle  of  that 
name,  enjoying  a  view  of  the  latter  upon  its  hilltop 
for  an  hour  before  my  arrival.  The  Scaligers  obtained 
it  from  Pope  Nicholas  V,  and  upon  their  destruc- 
tion it  passed  to  the  Conti  Pompei  of  Verona,  whose 
last  representative  died  in  1885,  leaving  his  city  pal- 
ace to  the  Signoria  for  the  museum.  Upon  one  occa- 
sion, when  tearing  down  an  old  wTall  of  the  castle, 
he  found  the  chained  skeleton  of  an  ancestress,  the 

1  Rossetti,  Dante  at  Verona. 


VERONA  LA   MARMORINA  413 

Countess  Ginevra,  who  had  been  punished  for  infidel- 
ity by  her  husband  long  ago,  in  a  manner  similar  to 
the  "White  Lady"  of  Colalto.  At  the  piazza  of  Illasi 
I  saw  a  fine,  classic  Municipio,  and  near  it  the  hand- 
some villa  and  gardens  of  the  Marchese  Carlotti. 
The  castle,  though  nearly  as  picturesque  from  below, 
in  its  great  tower,  massive  stone  body  and  ruinous 
walls,  is  not  as  interesting  as  Soave,  —  being  neither 
as  old,  nor  kept  in  the  medieval  state.  It  consists  of 
a  projecting  keep,  on  the  north  side,  and  an  adjacent 
square  building  of  three  to  four  stories,  both  battle- 
mented,  and  surrounded  by  the  broken  remains  of  the 
enceinture. 

All  around  it  on  the  hillsides  lies  the  beautiful 
Pompei  estate,  dense  with  olive  groves  and  vineyards, 
white-spotted  with  excellent  tenants'  dwellings;  and 
the  prospect  over  them  of  the  rich  valley  with  its 
many  villages  is  enchanting.  The  ascent  from  the 
town  is  a  full  two  miles;  and  let  no  one  who  makes  it 
omit  first  to  obtain  in  the  piazza  a  permit  to  visit  t lie 
castle,  or  he  will  not  be  admitted.  After  a  small  siesta 
at  a  horrible  countrv  inn,  where  one  basin-full  of 
water  per  chamber  was  supposed  to  be  sufficienl  for 
the  day,  I  returned  to  Verona  at  eventide  by  t  In'  .-team 
tramway,  making  connect  ion  at  Caldiero. 

In  the  same  valley  of  Illasi,  farther  nort  h,  lie  t  be  re- 
mains of  Tregnano  castle,  —  consisl  im,r  of  a  huge  keep 
and  a  crumbling  outer  wall  with  small  towers.  <>f  the 
castles  on  the  west  bank  Sirmione,  situated  <>n  the 
peninsula  of  that  name  at  the  southern  shore  of  Lake 
Garda,  is  the  most  interesting  after  Soave.  It  is  b 
beautiful  spot,  occupied  by  large  Roman  villas  [nan- 
cienl  times.  The  great  fortress  is  a  glowering,  fanciful 
mass  of  tall  irregular  towers  and  forked  battlement 
with  two  entrances,  and  several  courl  i  and  inner  walls. 


410  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

all  surrounded  by  mighty,  towered,  outer  walls.  Of  all 
the  castles  of  this  region,  it  is  the  most  famed  in  song 
and  story. 

The  Scala  castles  of  Villafranca,  Nogarole,  and  Va- 
leggio  lie  near  together  southwest  of  Verona  upon  the 
plain.  I  went  by  train  to  the  first-named,  erected  in 
1202  by"  the  Veronese  republic  as  a  fortress  against 
the  Mantuans;  from  it  Mastino  II  and  Can  Grande  II 
constructed  the  vast  wall  known  as  the  "Serraglio" 
for  miles  across  the  level,  with  moats  and  towers  for 
sentinels,  to  protect  their  territory  from  Mantuan  as- 
saults. I  found  the  castle  to  be  a  large  ruined  quadri- 
lateral at  the  south  of  Villafranca  village,  its  walls 
of  brick  and  cobblestones,  three  to  five  feet  thick, 
surrounded  by  a  slimy  moat,  with  square  towers  at 
the  corners,  and  a  formidable  keep  and  two  guard- 
towers  beside  the  entrance  in  the  northern  side. 
Nothing  remains  of  the  other  buildings  save  a  small 
structure  over  the  ingress,  still  inhabited;  gardens 
flourish  everywhere  within,  and  the  peasants  have 
made  a  road  through  the  middle.  This  was  the  fortress 
which  Ezzelino  besieged  in  1233,  in  which  the  people 
of  Mantua  with  their  families  took  refuge  in  1404  from 
the  cruelties  of  Galeazzo  Gonzaga,  and  from  which 
they  repulsed  his  fierce  attacks.  Though  often  so  at- 
tacked during  the  centuries,  it  never  fell.  In  the  vil- 
lage, in  1859,  was  signed  the  peace  between  France 
and  Austria,  ceding  Lombardy  to  Italy. 

Five  miles  to  the  west  sits  Valeggio,  another  Scala 
fortress,  guarding  the  Mincio;  halfway  to  it  rises  a 
monumental  column  marking  the  battlefield  of  Cus- 
tozza,  where  the  Italians  were  twice  so  bitterly  de- 
feated;—  but  close  at  hand  also,  seen  from  Villa- 
franca's  keep,  rise  the  towers  marking  the  fields  of 
the  great  victories  of  S.  Martino  and  Solferino.    This 


VERONA  LA  MARMORIXA  417 

is  sacred  ground,  watered  with  the  blood  of  the  mar- 
tyrs for  Freedom,  decorated  with  imposing  memorials, 
and  sought  by  hosts  of  free  Italians  year  after  year, 
in  a  solemn,  patriotic  pilgrimage. 

Italia!  by  the  passion  of  thy  pain 

That  bent  and  rent  thy  chain; 

Italia!  by  the  breaking  of  the  bands, 

The  shaking  of  the  lands; 

Beloved,  O  men's  mother,  O  men's  queen,  — 

Arise,  appear,  be  seen ! • 

1  Swinburne,  A  Song  of  Italy. 


CHAPTER  XI 

BRESCIA    TIIE   BRAVE 

Brescia  la  forte,  Brescia  la  ferrea, 

Brescia  lionessa  d'  Italia.  —  Dante. 

0  noblest  Brescia,  scarred  from  foot  to  bead. 

And  breast-deep  in  tbe  dead, 

Praise  bira1  from  all  tbe  glories  of  thy  graves, 

Tbat  yellow  Mella  laves 

With  gentle  and  golden  water,  whose  fair  flood 

Ran  wider  witb  thy  blood. 

—  Swinburne. 

Brescia  the  brave,  the  iron-hearted,  —  Brescia  the 
lioness  of  Italy !  Even  as  far  back  as  Dante's  time  she 
was  so  known,  —  foremost  in  every  danger,  leader  in 
every  struggle  against  oppression.  And  to  what  a  glori- 
ous climax  came  that  lofty  spirit,  that  heart  of  steel,  in 
the  heaving,  storm-tossed  time  of  the  Risorgimento, 
—  when  never  a  day  passed  without  some  fresh  hero, 
some  new  martyr,  issuing  from  her  impassioned  people 
to  battle  for  liberty,  —  when  against  all  odds,  all  pos- 
sibilities, she  struggled  desperately  on,  till  the  streets 
lay  piled  "breast  deep  in  the  dead  " !  A  century  before 
that,  Baretti  had  mistaken  her  fieriness  for  bragga- 
docio; and  his  words  reveal  in  her  the  same  defiant 
valor:  'The  people  of  Brescia  made  it  formerly  a 
point  of  honor  to  be  great  bullies;  and  I  remember 
the  time  myself  when  it  was  dangerous  to  have  any 
dealings  with  them,  as  they  were  much  inclined  to 
quarrel  merely  for  a  whim,  and  would  presently  chal- 
lenge  one   to    fight    with    pistol    or   blunderbuss."  2 

1  Garibaldi.  l  Baretti,  Manners  and  Customs  of  Italy. 


BRESCIA  THE  BRAVE  419 

Evelyn  in  his  day  remarked  their  intrepid  mettle, 
reflected  in  their  large  manufacture  of  firearms,  which 
has  ever  been  and  still  is  a  prominent  industry. 

Brescia  is  also  celebrated  for  her  extensive  Roman 
remains,  which  are  third  in  size  of  all  Italy,  and  reveal 
her  importance  among  the  ancients.  She  must  then 
have  been  a  happy,  prosperous  city,  for  history  has 
small  record  of  her  affliction  with  wars,  courts,  or 
great  events.  Catullus  spoke  of  her  as  "Bruria, 
Veronse  mater  amata  mea?,"1  and  Virgil  represented 
her  river  Mella,  now  a  smooth,  yellow  stream  of  no 
large  size,  as  — 

—  tonsis  in  vallibus  ilium  [florem] 
Pastores  et  curva  legunt  prope  flumina  Mellte.1 

Probably  the  lack  of  a  commanding  or  critical  site 
was  responsible  for  Brescia's  early  peace.  She  sits  just 
as  far  to  the  west  of  the  southern  end  of  Lake  Garda  as 
Verona  does  to  the  east,  and  likewise  at  the  end  of  a 
mountain  valley  (the  Val  Trompia  of  the  Mella),  with 
her  citadel  upon  the  last  hill,  and  her  houses  spreading 
from  its  slope  far  out  upon  the  plain;  but  the  valley 
leads  only  to  some  mountain  hamlets,  and  Brescia 
commands  no  pass,  navigable  river,  nor  other  trade- 
route.'  Thus  she  had  no  strategic  value;  yet  to-day  she 

1  "  Brescia,  beloved  mother  of  my  Verona." 
'  Georgia,  iv,  277,  27s. 

3   It  must  be  noted,  however,  that    Brescia  WSJ  the  customary  Btopping- 

place,  one  day's  journey  from  Milan,  upon  tin-  great  Roman  road  from  the 
latter  place  to  IViuli  and  the  Orient;  ami  u  such,  sbe  ii"i  "iily  bandied  a 
large  amount  of  commerce  (including  thai  bound  northward  via  Veroi 
but  impressed  her  charms  upon  many  an  emperor,  who  showed  Ins 

membrance  in  material  ways.    (  n-sar  endowed  the  citj   with    Roman   citi 
senship;  and  Augustus  richly  embellished  it  «itli   public  buildings  and 
monuments;  hence  its  imperial  name  of  Colonis  Augusta  •  ivica  di  I 
Further  royal  attentions  made  ii  a  citj  "ripristinata,  donate  <li  augustali 
rnunifieenze."  —  V.  Odorici,   Btoi  a,  dot    primi   tempi  ''// 

rwxtm ;  —to  whose  ten  learned  volumes  the  reader  Is  referred  for  1 1 1  •- 
town's  fullest  and  most  accurate  annals. 


420  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

possesses  a  population  nearly  as  large  as  Verona's,  — 
seventy  thousand,  —  and  is  one  of  the  chief  industrial 
(cnl  n-s  of  Italy. 

With  Verona,  Brescia  successively  shared  the  dis- 
asters and  occupations  of  the  various  barbarian  na- 
tions; and  became  an  occasional  dwelling-place  for 
Desiderius,  the  last  Lombard  King,  who  left  the  mark 
of  his  residence  in  buildings  still  standing.  With  the 
loosening  of  the  grip  of  the  Frankish  Counts,  the  city's 
fast  developing  martial  spirit  set  up  an  independent 
republic,  about  1073,  and  proceeded  to  assert  an 
active  part  in  Lombard  affairs.  One  of  the  first  heroes 
she  sent  forth  was  the  great  free-thinking  monk, 
Arnold  of  Brescia,  who  first  preached  against  the  riches 
and  corruption  of  the  clergy,  advocated  the  freedom 
of  the  soil  and  the  holiness  of  poverty,  roused  the 
Romans  during  their  revolution  of  1143  to  such  mad- 
ness that  they  sacked  the  monasteries,  and  was  finally 
burnt  at  the  stake  in  1155  by  Pope  Hadrian  IV.  He 
has  become  to  all  liberal  Italians  the  initiator  and 
representative  of  free  speech  and  advanced  ideas;  and 
when  his  monument  in  Rome  was  recently  unveiled 
a  violent  anticlerical  rioting  took  place. 

The  Brescian  Republic  was  as  Guelph  as  Verona 
was  Ghibelline,  and,  beginning  with  Frederick  I, 
struggled  unceasingly  against  the  Imperial  preten- 
sions; it  was  a  prominent  member  of  both  Lombard 
leagues,  suffered  a  losing  siege  from  the  first  Frederick, 
and  endured  a  victorious  siege  from  the  second  Fred- 
erick in  1237,  which  he  was  forced  to  raise  after  sixty- 
eight  days  of  fruitless  attacks.  Twenty-one  years 
later,  however,  it  fell  into  the  terrible  power  of  Ezze- 
lino,  as  a  result  of  the  internecine  strife  between  Guelph 
and  Ghibelline,  which,  up  to  the  coming  of  the  next 
Kmperor,  Henry  VII,  in  1310,  rent  every  Lombard 


BRESCIA  THE  BRAVE  421 

city  till  it  succumbed  to  the  grasp  of  some  tyrant.  The 
monster  of  them  all  chained  his  Brescian  enemies  to  a 
rock  in  the  open  plain,  and  let  them  perish  of  hunger. 

But  only  one  year  later  the  Brescians  obtained  their 
revenge  by  deserting  at  a  critical  moment  from  his 
army;  and  Ezzelino  was  struck  down  by  a  Brescian 
soldier  in  the  Guelphic  host.  The  republic  was  rein- 
stated, endured  some  threescore  years  longer,  and  fell 
forever  in  133-2  before  the  martial  genius  of  Can 
Grande  della  Scala.  When  the  proud  city  emerged 
from  the  weaker  grip  of  Mastino  II,  about  1335,  it  was 
only  to  feel  the  viler  yoke  of  the  perfidious  Visconti, 
who  had  united  with  the  Carrara  in  despoiling  the  de- 
generate Scaliger.  Thus  early  did  Brescia  become  an 
important  part  of  Visconti  territory,  —  joined  to  the 
fortunes  of  the  race  of  the  Viper;1  and  in  order  to 
understand  her  subsequent  history,  it  will  be  accessary 
to  summarize  here  that  race's  record. 

The  family  of  Delia  Torre  had  paved  the  way  tor 
Milanese  tyranny  by  asserting  absolute  power  over 
that  city,  as  the  result  of  prolonged  struggles;  SO 
that  when  Otho  Visconti,  Archbishop  of  Milan,  in 
1277  suddenly  seized  and  imprisoned  the  Delia  Torre. 
his  sole  authority  was  recognized  without  trouble. 
Later  he  associated  with  him  in  the  government  his 
nephew  Matteo,  obtained  from  the  Emperor  tin"  ap- 
pointment of  them  both  as  Imperial  Vie;ir>.  and 
secured  the  people's  acceptance  of  Matteo  as  hi-  heir. 
Both  of  these  were  very  strong  men,  and  Matte,  be 
came  "the  model  of  a  prudent  Italian  despot.  .  ■ 
He  ruled  his  states  by  force  ol  character,  craft,  and 
insight,  more   than   by  violence  or  cruelty."      His 

1  Tli.-  Visconti  standard  and  emblem  represented  an  infant  in  1 1»«-  monto 

of  a  sn.'ikf. 

2  SyrnonAs,  Age  nf  I  In   l> 


422  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

successors  followed  his  example.  From  1302  to  1310 
he  was  temporarily  ousted  by  the  Delia  Torre  and 
the  Guelphs;  but  with  the  advent  of  Henry  VII  in  the 
latter  year,  his  welcome  by  the  Delia  Torre,  and  his 
at  tempt  to  extort  money  from  the  Milanese,  the  peo- 
ple rose,  expelled  Emperor  and  Delia  Torre  together, 
and  recalled  the  Visconti.  The  Guelphic  cities  every- 
where rose,  and  Brescia  had  to  endure  in  consequence 
another  distressing  Imperial  siege,  which  this  time 
overcame  her. 

Matteo's  son  Galeazzo  succeeded  him  as  despot  in 
1322,  and  Galeazzo's  son  Azzo  followed,  who  subjug- 
ated ten  neighboring  cities,  including  Brescia,  and 
left  a  large  kingdom  at  his  death  in  1339,  to  Lucchino, 
another  son  of  Matteo.  Lucchino  secured  possession 
of  Parma  and  Pisa  also;  and  was  soon  succeeded  by  his 
brother  Giovanni.  'The  Visconti  now  took  the  place 
of  the  Delia  Scala  as  by  far  the  most  powerful  of  all  the 
houses  of  the  Lombard  Plain.  Giovanni  held  the  lord- 
ship of  sixteen  flourishing  Italian  towns,"  1  including 
Brescia,  Bergamo,  Crema,  and  Cremona.  He  was 
Archbishop  of  Milan  as  well  as  temporal  ruler,  — 
"the  friend  of  Petrarch,  and  one  of  the  most  notable 
characters  of  the  fourteenth  century."2  Upon  his 
death  the  huge  domains  were  for  a  time  divided  be- 
tween the  three  sons  of  his  brother  Stefano:  Barnabo 
received  the  four  cities  last  mentioned,  Matteo  the 
southern  towns,  and  Galeazzo  the  western,  while 
Genoa  and  Milan  were  to  be  ruled  jointly.  But  the 
territories  were  soon  reunited  by  the  master  political 
craftsman  of  the  trecento,  the  ablest  of  all  the  Visconti, 
the  greatest  of  all  Italian  despots,  —  Gian  Galeazzo. 

Matteo  was  assassinated  by  his  brothers;  Galeazzo 

1  Oscar  Browning,  Guelf.i  and  Ghibellines. 

2  Symonds,  Age  of  the  Despots. 


BRESCIA  THE  BRAVE  428 

died;  Gian  Galeazzo,  as  his  only  son,  succeeded  him 
in  1378  in  possession  of  the  western  towns,  and,  by 
long  deceiving  his  uncle  Barnabo  with  a  mask  of  timid- 
ity, finally  induced  him,  in  1385,  to  come  out  of  Milan 
with  his  sons,  and  greet  his  nephew  as  the  latter  passed 
by  with  an  escort  of  horsemen.  It  was  a  fatal  error; 
for  Gian  Galeazzo  with  a  word  to  his  soldiers  seized 
Barnabo  and  the  sons,  entered  Milan,  imprisoned 
them,  and  declared  himself  sole  ruler  of  the  Viscontl 
domains.  Then  began  those  endless,  far-reaching, 
secret  schemings  to  make  himself  the  master  of  all 
Italy,  by  any  means  discoverable,  —  treachery,  mur- 
der, bribery,  the  sowing  of  dissension  and  suspicion, 
the  deception  of  friends  and  foes,  the  hiring  of  con- 
dottieri  to  make  wars,  etc.,  —  means  which  resulted 
in  the  steady  addition  to  his  state  of  one  city  after 
another,  until  it  extended  from  the  Alps  t<>  the  I  ni- 
brian  Plain,  from  Friuli  to  Piedmont  and  Liguria. 

While  the  rest  of  Italy  trembled  before  the  giant 
hand  closing  irresistibly  upon  them,  suddenly,  how- 
ever, in  140-2,  the  plague  carried  off  this  archetype 
of  Machiavelli's  ideal  prince.1  His  dominions  by  his 
will  were  equally  divided  between  tin1  two  legitimate 
infant  sons,  for  whom  the  widowed  Duchess  ( laterina 
was  appointed  guardian;  Giovanni  Maria  was  to  have 
Milan,  and  half  the  subject  cities,  including  Brescia 
and  Bergamo,  —  Filippo  Maria,  the  other  half,  with 
Pavia  for  his  capital.  lint  the  formidable  captains 
of  adventure  whom  Gian  Galeazzo  had  trained  and 
held  in  leash,  at  the  head  of  the  forces  which  he  had 
helped  thcni  gather,  instantly  disregarded  this  will, 
and  acted  for  themselves;  while  in  those  cities  which 
they  did  not  seize,  the  old  local  tyrants  bobbed  up 
again. 

1  M.u  Li. i'..  Hi.  /'■  Principattinu. 


424  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Pandolfo  Malatesta,  the  condoUicrc,  with  his  troops 
grasped  Brescia  in  the  turmoil.  Francesco  dclla  Car- 
rara took  Verona.  The  Duchess  now  made  her  error 
of  calling  the  Venetians  to  her  aid,  —  who  expelled  the 
Carrara  from  Verona,  Vicenza,  and  Padua,  but  kept 
the  spoil  for  their  own.  Catherine  was  soon  poisoned; 
Gian  Maria  was  murdered  at  Milan,  where  he  had 
been  indulging  in  the  most  inhuman  atrocities  ever 
known;  and  Filippo  Maria,  likewise  a  cruel  degener- 
ate but  more  crafty  and  ambitious,  proceeded  step  by 
step  to  recover  his  father's  dominions,  by  his  father's 
methods.  He  was  a  vile,  hideous,  cowardly  creature, 
who  hid  himself  from  all  men  in  secret  chambers,  and 
even  constructed  canals  with  high  walls  by  which  to 
pass  unperceived  from  palace  to  palace;  but  he  had 
inherited  his  father's  power  of  using  abler  men.  He 
discovered  Carmagnola,  making  him  captain  of  his 
armies;  and  the  latter  between  1412  and  1422  success- 
ively dislodged  the  swarm  of  lesser  tyrants,  including 
Malatesta  from  Brescia;  and  so  recovered  most  of  the 
Visconti  territories.  Then  Filippo  renewed  his  father's 
designs  upon  Italy,  and  attacked  the  more  southerly 
states,  with  Francesco  Sforza  the  elder  as  his  general, 
—  who,  it  is  said,  started  life  as  a  woodchopper. 
When  Sforza  was  killed,  his  great  son  of  the  same 
name  succeeded  him.  Carmagnola  had  been  so  bril- 
liantly successful  that  the  mean  spirit  of  Filippo  was 
jealous,  and  disgraced  him. 

It  was  his  fatal  error.  Carmagnola  fled  to  Venice, 
induced  the  Republic  to  yield  to  the  entreaties  of 
Florence  to  form  a  league  against  Milan,  and  in  1426 
led  a  powerful  Venetian  army  to  victory  over  the 
Duke.  Brescia  was  the  first  fruit  of  the  campaign, 
and,  with  her  surrounding  lands,  became  from  that 
time  a  happy  and  prosperous  Venetian  subject.  Car- 


BRESCIA  THE  BRAVE  425 

magnola  drove  the  Milanese  back  on  every  side; 
Sforza  revolted  against  the  Duke  and  took  for  a 
while  the  other  side,  bought  over  by  the  Floren- 
tines. Carmagnola  had  such  great  successes  that  he 
became  too  independent  and  indolent  for  the  Vene- 
tian Council  of  Ten;  who  finally  suspected  him  of 
treasonable  correspondence  with  Filippo,  executed 
him,  and  placed  Gattamelata  in  charge  of  their  forces. 
The  condottiere,  Niccolo  Piccinino,  of  Perugia.  Led 
the  Milanese  in  the  ensuing  campaign,  with  much 
ability. 

Now  occurred  the  memorable  siege  of  Brescia  in 
1439-40,  by  Filippo  Visconti's  army.  The  city  had 
already  grown  so  fond  of  the  Republican  rule  that  she 
"held  out  against  unheard-of  sufferings,"  —  while 
Gattamelata  strove  to  relieve  her.  The  re-provision- 
ing of  the  city  was  finally  accomplished  by  an  unparal- 
leled feat,  which  has  gone  reverberating  through  the 
annals  of  warfare:  "Six  ships  and  twenty-five  lighter 
boats  were  built  at  Venice,  taken  up  theAdige  to  Mori, 
just  below  Ala,  and  there  placed  upon  rollers  and 
greased  boards;  more  than  two  thousand  oxen  were 
employed  to  haul  them  uphill,  into  the  waters  of  the 
little  lake  of  S.  Andrea.  From  S.  Andrea  they  were 
hauled  in  like  fashion  over  a  depression  in  Monte 
Baldo,  and  gradually  lowered  down  the  western  slope 
till  they  reached  the  lake  [of  Garda]  at  Torbole/' 
Brescia  was  thus  re-stored,  to  the  amazemenl  of  Pic- 
cinino; who  was  also  soon  defeated  by  Sforza,  advanc 
ing  from  the  south,  and  escaped  with  his  own  life  only 
"by  being  carried  in  a  sack  on  the  shoulders  of  one  of 
his  men." 

In  1442  Sforza  was  reattached  to  Duke  Filippo  by 
succeeding  in  the  marriage  which  be  demanded  with 

1  Brown,  Venice:  A  Historical  BktUk  of  tin  [UpvbUo, 


426  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF   ITALY 

the  latter's  only  child,  Bianca.  Soon  after  Filippo  1 
died,  in  1  U7,  without  having  succeeded,  in  spite  of  all 
his  desperate  attempts,  in  recovering  either  Brescia  or 
Bergamo;  which  thenceforth  remained  loyal  and  pro- 
sperous Venetian  cities,  undisturbed  in  their  allegiance, 
except  during  the  War  of  the  League  of  Cambrai, 
1508-16. 

At  the  beginning  of  that  terrible  period  of  warfare, 
after  the  first  disastrous  defeat  of  the  Venetians, 
Brescia  at  once  surrendered  to  the  French;  but  the 
people  were  so  maltreated,  that  they  revolted  on  Feb- 
ruary 3,  1512.  Thereupon  the  renowned  Gaston  de 
Foix  —  the  "Thunderbolt  of  Italy,"  a  nephew  of 
Louis  XII  —  took  the  city  by  assault,  only  sixteen 
days  later,  and  gave  it  over  to  sack  and  massacre. 
This  was  one  of  the  most  terrible  events  of  the  Re- 
naissance age.  For  days  the  French  troops  hunted 
down  the  citizens,  pillaged,  and  destroyed,  until  the 
city  was  a  complete  wreck,  burned  in  large  part,  and 
most  of  the  Brescians  who  had  not  fled  beforehand 
were  slain.  Chevalier  Bayard,  the  Knight  "sans  peur 
et  sans  reproche,"  who  was  wounded  in  the  assault, 
stated  in  his  diary  that  over  twenty-two  thousand 
persons,  of  every  age  and  sex,  filled  the  streets  with 
their  corpses.  Brescia,  till  then  one  of  the  richest 
cities  of  North  Italy,  was  completely  ruined,  and 
never  entirely  recovered  from  the  destruction.  The 
survivors  now  remembered  that  twenty-six  years  pre- 
viously this  calamity  had  been  prophesied  to  them, 
for  their  sinfulness,  by  a  wandering  monk,  —  the 
martyr,  Girolamo  Savonarola! 

1  Filippo  Maria,  the  last  of  the  Visconti,  was  shortly  succeeded  in  the 
dukedom  of  Milan  by  Francesco  Sforza,  his  son-in-law,  who  reigned  till 
14G6.  Five  princes  of  the  disastrous  Sforza  line  rapidly  followed  him;  his 
grandson  Francesco  II,  the  last  duke,  coming  to  his  end  in  1526,  when 
Milan  and  its  territories  became  a  part  of  the  Spanish  dominions. 


BRESCIA  THE  BRAVE  427 

After  the  Peace  of  1516,  which  ended  the  war  of 
Cambrai,  Brescia  was  returned  to  Venice,  and  thence- 
forth remained  steady  in  her  allegiance  until  the  end 
of  the  Republic.1  With  Verona  she  afterward  endured 
the  Austrian  tyranny,  but  less  patiently,  and  more 
resentfully,  her  spirit  of  freedom  rising  more  fiery 
with  every  year  of  slavery,  until  she  became  the  burn- 
ing soul  and  centre  of  the  revolution  in  Lombardy. 
From  Brescia  there  emanated  an  ever  increasing 
stream  of  conspiracies,  plots,  organizations,  and  heroic 
leaders,  against  the  foreign  dominion;  the  grand  old 
castle  upon  her  height  was  extended,  strengthened, 
and  filled  with  Austrian  battalions,  to  watch  the 
seething  city  at  their  feet. 

These  ebullitions  at  last  burst  forth  in  the  rising  of 
1848,  when  Brescia's  spirit  had  permeated  and  roused 
the  whole  of  Lombardy;  like  a  whirlwind  the  Bres- 
cians  sprang  to  arms,  assumed  their  preconceived 
organization,  and  appointed  as  their  leader  Count 
Martinengo,  —  the  noble,  devoted  head  of  an  historic 
family,  descended  from  that  Tebaldo  Martinengo  to 
whom  the  Emperor  Otho  I  for  his  bravery  gave  fifteen 
castles  and  the  Order  of  the  Red  Eagle.  When  I  his 
first  attempt  was  ended  by  the  defea  I  of  the  Piedmont- 
ese  and  their  Italian  auxiliaries,  under  ( lharles  Albert, 

1  An  interesting  incident  of  th<-  Venetian  period  was  the  grandiose 
reception  and  entertainment,  lasting  twelve  days,  given  by  Giorgio  Cot* 
naro,  tin-  IVlcsta,  to  hU  sister,  the  ex-Queen  "f  <  lyprus,  on  one  "f  her  three 
excursions  from  the  solitude  of  Asolo  \  guard  of  forty  youthi  met 

her  outside  the  town.  .  .  .  Triumphs  and  allegorical  pageants  followed 
.  .  .  Tli'-  Qui'cn  cntcn-d  tin-  city  in  a  chariot  of  state  drawn  by  four 
white  bones,  horned  like  unicorns.  Jousts  bj  torchlight  were  given, 
and  tli'-  jousi<rs  marched  in  procession,  with  helmets  on  their  heads 
from  whose  crests  burnt  Barnes.  It  was  I  sterina's  last  royal  ceremony, 
.  .  .  But  Venice  showed  herself  jealous  of  thi  t  mimic  royalty,  and 

Giorgio  was  soon  uft<T  recalled."      Horatio  Brown,  studies  in  tin  B m- 

tory  of  Venice. 


428  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

at  Novara,  on  March  23,  1849,  —  Brescia  alone  of  the 
Lombard  cities  refused  to  yield,  having  again  risen 
against  the  garrison,  under  Count  Martinengo  and 
the  young  hero  Tito  Speri,  captured  the  Austrian  gov- 
ernor, and  blockaded  his  five  hundred  troops  in  the 
citadel.  It  was  a  magnificent  foolhardiness,  which  in 
its  very  failure  raised  countless  patriots  from  the  blood 
of  the  slain.1 

Austrian  batteries  were  massed  about  the  city,  and 
day  after  day,  from  them  and  from  the  castle,  was 
poured  a  terrible  storm  of  shot  and  shell  that  spared 
neither  child  nor  woman,  fired  the  houses  in  a  score  of, 
places,  and  turned  the  streets  into  a  blazing  shambles. 
Despite  everything,  the  citizens  would  not  yield,  pre- 
ferring death  to  that  foreign  domination.  The  pity  of 
it  all  was,  that  General  Haynau,  the  Austrian  leader, 
knew  of  the  result  at  Novara,  but  would  not  reveal  it 
to  the  Brescians;  he  did  not  want  them  to  have  a  valid 
reason  for  yielding;  he  was  determined  to  exterminate 
them  through  their  very  courage.  Finally  the  advanc- 
ing enemy,  whose  progress  was  bitterly  contested  from 
building  to  building,  and  street  to  street,  hemmed 
the  remaining  Brescians  into  the  central  piazza,  with 
"scenes  of  such  atrocious  cruelty  as  baffle  descrip- 
tion. .  .  .  The  misfortunes  of  Brescia  can  only  be 
equaled  by  its  heroic  bravery;  and  the  name  of  this 
city  has  become  sacred  to  all  true  Italians."2 

The  decimated  remnant  at  last  surrendered.  Tito 
Speri  and  the  other  surviving  leaders  were  ultimately 
allowed  to   go   free;  but   several   years  later,  for   a 

1  "The  Brescians  are  up!"  cried  George  Meredith,  in  his  romance, 
Vittoria.  "Brescia  is  always  the  eagle  that  looks  over  Lombardy!"  And 
the  gifted  author,  who  spoke  of  the  Risorgimento  as  the  first  and  greatest 
enthusiasm  of  his  youth,  described  later  with  a  thrilling  power  the  flight  of 
the  surviving  patriots  from  the  captured  city. 

2  The  Italian  Volunteers;  Appendix,  note  D. 


BRESCIA  THE  BRAVE  429 

discovered  conspiracy,  Speri  was  confined,  with  many 
others,  in  the  castle,  which  was  one  huge  prison-house 
of  patriots;  then  he  was  conveyed  to  the  fortress  of 
Mantua,  and  garroted.  He  was  but  twenty-eight 
years  of  age.  The  insurrection  of  1849,  however,  be- 
came famous  as  "The  Ten  Days  of  Brescia1';  and 
Haynau  was  known  henceforth  as  "The  Hyena  of 
Brescia, —  execrated  throughout  the  civilized  world."1 
The  city,  nevertheless,  was  not  dismayed;  her  intrepid 
spirit  soon  soared  fiercely  once  more.  Ten  years  of 
ceaseless  plotting  followed,  —  often  discovered,  as  in 
the  said  cabal  of  1851-52,  which  sent  so  many  illus- 
trious citizens  to  the  scaffold;  and  after  the  Peace  of 
Villafranca,  which  freed  Brescia,  but  left  eastern 
Venetia  still  in  Austrian  hands,  the  Brescians  con- 
tinued to  agitate,  plot,  and  organize,  until  the  Italian 
Government  was  obliged,  for  form's  sake,  to  arrest  a 
large  number  of  them  in  1862,  who  were  preparing  a 
raid  upon  Austrian  territory,  under  Garibaldi. 

Brescia's  school  of  art  was  as  distinct  in  personality 
as  was  her  people's  character;  and  though  her  artists 
were  never  numerous,  they  were  strong,  unique,  and 
interesting.  The  Paduan  school  made  the  founda- 
tion, as  elsewhere  in  Lombardy,  —  through  Vincenzo 
Foppa,  the  pupil  of  Mantegna,  and  Ferramola  and 
others  of  Foppa's  disciples.  Vincenzo  Civerchio  of 
Crema  painted  in  Brescia  about  that  lime,  and  left 
the  impress  of  his  genius.  Poppa  it  was  who  started 
the  first  school  of  Milan,  also,  in  the  latter  half  of  the 
<iuaiirocento.  Ferramola,  "a  cold  and  disagreeable 
colorist,"8  survived  the  destruction  of  1512,  and  left 
widespread  works;  a  fellow-laborer  of  his.  about    1500, 

was  "ne  Paolo  Zoppo,  a  native  Breacian  also,  said 

i  Owi,  Modern  Italy. 

2    Lavanl,  Handbook  »/  PottU 


480  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

to   have  been  a  pupil    of    Perugino   and    Giovanni 

Bellini. 

But  now  came  the  early  cinquecentists,  Brescia's 
greatest  masters.  Girolamo  Romanino  (1485-156G), 
who  was  the  son  of  an  obscure  painter,  and  is  said  to 
have  been  early  influenced  by  Civerchio's  grace  and 
power,  completed  his  art  education  at  Venice  and 
Padua,  where  "from  studying  the  works  of  Giorgione 
he  acquired  that  brilliant  golden  coloring  for  which 
his  works  are  celebrated."1  I  had  already  seen  good 
examples  of  them  at  Padua  and  Verona;  but  nearly  all 
of  them  remain  at  Brescia,  where  he  lived  long  and 
had  many  pupils.  His  only  rival,  and  the  greatest 
of  all  Brescians,  was  Alessandro  Bonvicini,  called 
II  Moretto  (1498-1555),  the  most  of  whose  pictures 
are  also  in  his  native  town,  —  though  I  had  observed 
at  Verona  several  specimens  of  his  characteristic 
"silvery  tone." 

Moretto  passed  his  whole  life  in  Brescia;  studying 
under  Ferramola  first,  then  imitating  Titian  and  the 
Venetians,  he  eventually  "formed  a  style  of  his  own, 
which  ...  is  distinguished  ...  by  a  cool,  tender, 
and  harmonious  scale  of  color  which  has  a  peculiar 
charm,  and  is  entirely  his  own.  .  .  .  He  almost 
rivaled  Titian  in  the  stateliness  and  dignity  of  his 
figures.  .  .  .  Moretto  was  of  a  gentle,  pious  nature, 
and  his  works  are  almost  exclusively  of  a  quiet,  relig- 
ious character."1  It  is  related  that  he  was  wont  to 
fast  and  pray  long  when  composing  a  painting  of  a 
Madonna  or  other  holy  personage,  and  in  such  a  way 
painted  two  or  three  canvases  by  inspiration,  which 
attained  miraculous  powers. 

Geronimo  Savoldo  (1508-48)  was  the  third  great 
Brescian    master,  —  who,    however,    seldom    stayed 

1  Layard,  Handbook  of  Painting. 


BRESCIA  THE  BRAVE  481 

there,  having  moved  to  Venice,  where  "he  is  known  to 
have  become  one  of  the  most  formidable  of  Titian's 
rivals;  not,  indeed,  in  works  of  a  large  scale,  but  in 
smaller  pieces  conducted  with  an  exquisite  degree  of 
care."1  To  me  his  works  are  invariably  most  delight- 
ful. 

The  next  generation,  in  the  middle  and  latter  part 
of  the  cinquecetito,  consisted  chiefly  of  Moretto's pupils; 
foremost  among  them  was  Giovanni  Battista  Moroni. 
the  renowned  portrait  painter,  who  was  unsurpassed 
in  that  line.  Perhaps  ahead  of  them  all,  however, 
except  Moroni,  wras  Romanino's  son-in-law  and  dis- 
ciple, Lattanzio  Gambara,  who  painted  imposing 
scriptural  scenes,  and  "various  histories  and  fables 
truly  beautiful."1  After  these  men  came  the  decad- 
ence. 

My  journey  from  Verona  to  Brescia  was  accom- 
plished without  incident,  beyond  the  usual  over- 
crowding of  the  train  always  found  upon  the  main 
lines.  The  passengers  were  mostly  commercial  Ital- 
ians, who  travel  nowadays  very  much  more  than  for- 
merly; they  pile  luggage  and  wraps  in  the  empty  seats 
of  a  compartment,  and  often  use  every  possible  means, 
including  glowering,  snarling,  and  refusal  to  move,  to 
deter  others  from  entering,  —  being  still,  as  B  class, 
remarkably  medieval  in  all  ideas  regarding  their  owd 
comfort.  The  usual  majority  of  traveling  Italians, 
however,  are  very  courteous.  The  tram  soon  entered 
the  swelling,  rounded,  low  hills  thrown  forward  by 
the  Alps  to  the  south  of  Lake  Garda,  and  stopped 
awhile  a1  Peschiera,  at  the  lake's  southeastern  cor 
n, t,  beside  its  effluent,  the  historic  river  Mincio. 
The  Mincio  flows  directly  southward,  wide  and  deep, 

1  Laii/i,  History  qf  Painting. 


m  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

past  Yaleggio  and  Mantua  to  the  Po,  and  has  always 
been  of  much  strategic  importance.  Peschiera,  a  little 
place  of  eighteen  hundred  people,  "buried  in  its  al- 
most subterranean  fastnesses  like  a,  mole,"1  has  also 
been  important  in  a  strategic  way  only,  having  been 
a  fortress  for  centuries,  and  a  corner  of  the  celebrated 
Austrian  "Quadrilateral."  A  number  of  its  huge  bas- 
tions and  moats  were  passed  close  at  hand,  —  the 
same  which  were  so  bravely  carried  by  the  Pied- 
montese  on  May  30,  1848. 

Then  we  proceeded  along  the  lake's  southern  shore, 
with  beautiful  views  over  its  wide,  blue  expanse  to  the 
imposing  Alps  between  which  it  gradually  narrowed, 
—  giving  a  far  vista  of  wondrous  grandeur.  Charming 
white  towns  and  hamlets  dotted  the  receding,  lux- 
uriant shores,  and  glistened  from  the  dark  Alpine 
flanks.  Here  extended  the  slim  peninsula  of  Sirmione;2 
and  afar  on  the  northwestern  bank,  stretched  at  the 
foot  of  those  glowering  peaks,  lay  the  lovely  pro- 
tected coast-strip  known  as  the  Riviera,  fragrant  and 
enchanting  with  its  orange  and  lemon  groves,  and  its 
verdure  of  eternal  summer.  To  it  well  apply  Goethe's 
enthusiastic  lines:  — 

Dost  know  the  land  of  lemon  flowers, 
Of  dusky,  gold-flecked  orange  bowers? 
The  breath  of  the  azure  sky  scarce  heaves 
The  myrtle  and  high  laurel  leaves.3 

1  Hazlitt,  Journey  through  France  and  Italy  in  1826. 

2  Poets  from  the  classic  days  to  Tennyson  have  extolled  the  loveliness  of 
this  spot,  and  its  enchanting  Benacus.  We  remember  Thomas  Moore's 
translation  of  Catullus:  — 

Sweet  Sirmio!  Thou  the  very  eye 

Of  all  peninsulas  and  isles 

That  in  our  lakes  of  silver  lie, 

Or  sleep  enwreathed  by  Neptune's  smiles. 

3  R.  II.  Schauffler's  translation. 


BRESCIA  THE   BRAVE  433 

We  stopped  another  minute  at  Desenzano,  at  the 
southwest  angle,  a  pleasant,  modem-looking  town  of 
some  five  thousand  inhabitants,  whence  the  steamers 
ply  to  the  other  ports.  Then  starting  a  last  time,  and 
leaving  the  gracious  lake  behind,  we  crossed  the  plain 
northwesterly  to  the  next  spur  of  the  Alps,  rolled 
along  its  olive-covered,  southern  flanks  for  half  a 
dozen  miles,  and  reached  Brescia  at  its  farther  ex- 
tremity. 

The  station  proved  to  be  close  without  the  southern 
wall,  near  the  "Porta  Stazione"  at  its  western  end. 
I  climbed  into  the  'bus  of  the  principal  cdbergo,  and 
was  jolted  through  this  gateway  and  up  the  wide, 
modern-looking  Corso  Vittorio  Emanuele,  north- 
eastward toward  the  city's  centre.  But  when  about 
halfwTay  to  the  centre,  we  turned  to  the  right,  into  the 
important  thoroughfare  which,  under  the  names  of 
Corsos  Palestra,  Zanardelli,  and  Magenta,  crosses  the 
city  from  west  to  east;  and  proceeding  in  the  latter 
direction,  we  soon  stopped  in  the  wide,  brilliant  Zanar- 
delli, before  the  albergo  on  its  southern  side. 

The  old  courtyard  of  the  hotel  had  been  modernized 
into  a  glass-covered  hall,  with  the  restauranl  on  one 
side,  as  usual,  and  the  stairs  upon  the  other.  Sere  for 
the  first  time  in  the  plain-towns  I  was  displease, I;  the 
prices  appeared  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  poor  ac- 
commodation, the  service  was  far  from  pleasanl  to 
me,  and  the  pompons  landlord  particularly  dis- 
agreeable. But  I  reflected  that  it  was  only  for  a  week 
or  two,  and  endured  my  troubles  philosophically,  ks 
far  back  as  Hazlitt's  time,  the  bad  inns  of  Kres<  i,(  were 

a  cause  of  complaint . ' 

The  eastle  hill  of  Brescia,  which,  like  Verona's,  gave 

origin  to  the  town,  ri><s  at  the  northeastern  corner  of 

1   Hazlitt,  Journey  throwjh  France  awl  Italy  in  /' 


434  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

the  quadrilateral,  —  whose  sides  turn  generally  to- 
ward the  four  points  of  the  compass;  it  is  a  detached 
height,  thrown  forward  some  way  from  the  southwest- 
ern angle  of  the  mountain-chain;  the  hills  retreat  to 
the  east  and  north,  leaving  a  small  section  of  the  plain 

—  the  once  beautiful  vale  of  the  Mella  —  extending 
behind  the  citadel  for  several  miles.  There  a  modern 
quarter  has  recently  grown  up,  with  the  erection  of 
dozens  of  factories,  constituting  Brescia's  industrial 
life;  so  that  their  ugly  windows,  chimneys,  and  smoke- 
palls  are  conveniently  separated  and  hidden  by  the 
lofty  hill. 

Upon  the  latter  the  Romans  built  their  fortress,  and 
at  its  southern  foot,  their  templed  city,  whose  extent 
is  still  distinguishable  by  the  regular  network  of  right- 
angled  streets,  occupying  about  a  sixth  of  the  area  of 
the  present  town.  This  Roman  section  is  delimited  on 
the  west  by  the  medieval  piazzas,  del  Duomo  and  del 
Comune,  —  which  now  lie  exactly  in  the  city's  centre, 

—  by  the  Corso  Magenta  on  the  south,  the  city  wall 
on  the  east,  and  the  steep  hillside  on  the  north.  At  the 
middle  of  the  foot  of  this  verdurous  hillside  stand  the 
imposing  remains  of  the  great  Temple  to  Hercules 
erected  by  the  Emperor  Vespasian;  before  which  ex- 
tended the  ancient  Forum,  —  still  partly  open,  with 
exiguous  fragments  of  its  classic  buildings,  under  the 
modern  name  of  Piazza  del  Museo.  For  the  reconsti- 
tuted Temple  has  been  fitly  utilized  as  a  museum  of 
antiquities. 

I  understood,  then,  the  reason  for  the  unusual  width 
of  the  Corso  Zanardelli  (formerly  called  Corso  del 
Teatro,  on  account  of  the  location  here  of  all  the 
theatres)  when  I  emerged  upon  it  next  morning  for  my 
preliminary  walk:  it  occupies  the  site  of  the  ancient 
southern  wall.    An  early-medieval  extension  of  the 


BRESCIA  THE  BRAVE  43.5 

Roman  town  is  also  indicated  upon  the  map,  —  its  wall 
running  westward  halfway  along  the  Corso  Palestra, 
then  northward  along  the  Via  della  Pace  and  Via  delle 
Battaglie;  thus  including  the  central  piazzas  and  the 
early  public  buildings  and  churches. 

The  Corso  was  quite  modern  in  appearance, —  stuc- 
coed modern  buildings,  tramway  tracks,  clanging  cars, 
a  crowd  of  vehicles,  and  a  greater  crowd  of  pedestri- 
ans; but  on  its  northern  side  was  a  continuous  deep 
arcade,  with  an  upper  story  containing  two  windows 
over  each  wide  arch,  and  over  them  again  a  scries  of 
extraordinary  large  chimneys,  perched  upon  the  very 
eaves;  —  while  thirty  feet  back  of  these  rose  a  man- 
sard roof  carrying  a  hanging  garden  with  trellised 
vines.  Altogether  a  picturesque  construction,  —  with 
a  great  triumphal  arch  in  its  centre,  and  its  deep  ar- 
cades filled  with  eaffe-tables. 

At  its  western  end,  where  the  Corso  changes  its  name 
to  Palestra,  the  Via  delle  Spadcrie  a  quaint  cogno- 
men, this  "Street  of  the  Sword-Shops"  — diverges 
northward  to  Piazza  Comunc,  three  hundred  yards 
distant.  That  one  of  the  principal  streets  should  have 
such  a  name  fairly  demonstrates  the  city's  ancienl 
activity  in  that  line.  Evelyn  said  in  1645:  "Here  I 
purchased  .  .  .  my  fine  carabine,  which  cosl  me  Dine 
pistoles;  this  Citty  being  famous  for  these  firearms. 
.  .  .  This  Citty  consists  naosl  in  artists,  every  shop 
abounding  in  gunns,  swords,  armores,  etc."  I*1'1 
first  I  sought  the  Piazza  N'uova.       jus1     off  the  CorSO 

Palestra  to  the  right,  a  block  farther  *est,  used  for 
the  fruit  and  vegetable  market.    1 1 <  r-<-  the  scene  was 

1  Evelyn,  Diary  and  Letters.      Hen     tood  the  workshop  "f   the    re 
Downed  armorer,  b/Lua  of  Breeds;  who  is  lupposed  i"  have  wrought  the 
very  fine  chain  shirt   in  which    Hto  Melema      •<ii-i,t   t<>  wive  Ins  life 
(Rornota.) 


436  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

more  medieval:  two-  and  three-storied,  old  stucco 
houses  surrounded  the  village  of  canvas-roofed  booths, 
glaring  in  the  sun,  thronged  with  chattering,  gesticu- 
lating people;  the  strange,  large  chimneys  again  sur- 
mounted the  eaves,  and  at  the  west  end  rose  a  pretty 
marble  fountain,  bearing  a  shapely  Cupid  astride  a 
dolphin.  Behind  this  loomed  a  heavy  rococo  palace, 
of  stucco  with  painful  ornamentations,  —  one  of  the 
former  residences  of  the  Martinengo  family,  now 
occupied  by  the  city  health-  and  police-offices.  I 
noticed  some  of  the  gendarmes,  with  costumes  and 
batons  much  like  those  of  Udine. 

Returning  to  the  narrow  Via  delle  Spaderie,  I  fol- 
lowed its  crowded  arcades  to  Piazza  Comune  (or 
Vecchia),  where  the  arcades  became  two-storied  and 
monumental,  —  along  its  eastern  end.  Westward 
before  me  stretched  the  paved  open  square,  to  a  pa- 
latial structure  of  such  superb  and  dazzling  beauty 
that  I  stood  rooted  in  surprise:  a  great  mass  of  white 
and  silvery  gray  marbles  flashed  brilliantly  the  radiant 
lines  of  arches,  columns,  pilasters,  balustrades  and 
carved  cornices,  assembled  in  the  glorious  harmony  of 
the  stately  Renaissance,  with  a  bewildering  wealth  of 
sculpture.  Majestically  imposing  in  the  colossal  arches 
and  pillars,  yet  joyous  and  graceful  in  the  countless 
rich  details,  that  did  not  overload  the  purity  of  design, 
it  glistened  in  the  morning  sunlight  like  an  epitome 
of  the  great  classic  revival.  It  was  Brescia's  far-famed 
Palazzo  Municipale,  —  one  of  the  grandest  efforts  of 
the  Renaissance. 

The  general  design  is  quite  the  same  as  many  another 
Municipio  of  the  plain-towns,  —  the  three  ground- 
floor  arches,  opening  into  the  public  loggia,  and  the 
single  upper  story,  pierced  by  three  ornate  windows; 
but  what  a  difference  in  the  magnitude  of  the  scale,  — 


BRESCIA  THE  BRAVE  43? 

the  arches,  and  the  Corinthian  half-columns  facing 
their  piers,  rising  to  a  height  of  thirty  feel  and  more; 
the  upper  division  towering  twice  as  high  again,  far 
above  the  five-storied  buildings  near.  And  what  a 
difference  in  the  wealth  of  material  and  ornament :  the 
exquisite  carved  arabesques  on  the  faces  of  the  upper 
pilasters;  the  convoluted  foliage  with  charming  putti, 
enriching  the  lovely  frieze;  the  delicate,  gleaming 
balustrades  upon  the  cornices;  the  finely  sculptured 
heads  looking  forth  from  apertures  in  the  areh-span- 
drils;  the  sculptured  Cupids  gracing  the  eaves;  — all 
conveyed  to  me  a  sense  of  enchantment,  with  the 
silvery  glowing  tone  of  a  picture  by  Mo  ret  to. 

"La  Loggia" — as  the  people  like  to  call  it  — 
though  commenced  by  the  architect  Fromontone  in 
1492,  under  the  orders  of  that  magnificent  builder, 
Gian  Galeazzo  Visconti,  reflects  mostly  the  genius  of 
Sansovino;  Palladio,  too,  modelled  those  beautiful 
window-frames,  with  the  unusual  carved  cornices. 
The  original  design  intended  a  dome  upon  the  sum- 
mit, —  which  there  is  talk  of  now  adding.  The  great 
hall  upon  which  the  windows  opened,  splendidly 
decorated  by  Palladio,  was  celebrated  as  one  of  the 
stateliest  in  Italy;  but  was  unhappily  destroyed  by  a 
fire  in  1575. 

In  the  adjacent  northwest  angle  of  the  pi;* 
I  observed  a  curious  house  which  they  had  once  com- 
menced to  ornament  in  consonance  with  the  palace, 
but  had  evidently  stopped  at  i  he  second  Btory,  leaving 
the  upper  bare  stuccoed  wall  al  a  queer  variance  with 
the  stone  pilasters,  ornate  cornice,  and  handsome  pedi- 
mented  doorway  below.  Elsewhere  handsome  build- 
ings surrounded  the  piazza  with  a  lit  frame.  On  the 
south  stood  the  long,  three  storied  palace,   marble 

faced  and  well  -proporl  [oned,  of  the   Monte  «li    Pieta, 


438  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

having  pleasing  Renaissance  windows  and  two  monu- 
mental, arched  entrances.  The  eastern  was  framed  by 
Corinthian  pilasters,  the  western  similarly  inclosed, 
—  with  a  double  arcaded  passage  below,  running  most 
gracefully  on  central  Corinthian  columns  through  to 
a  rear  street;  over  it  was  a  delightful  colonnaded  win- 
dow, of  seven  arches  on  dainty  marble  shafts,  sculpt- 
ured roundabout  with  shields  and  arabesques.  It 
would  be  difficult  to  find  anywhere  a  more  delicious 
bit  of  the  Renaissance. 

On  the  east  side  of  the  piazza,  the  lofty  arcade,  car- 
ried upon  white  granite  pillars,  was  adorned  overhead 
with  panels  of  shining  black  marble,  a  clock-face  in 
the  centre,  and  the  municipal  bell  swinging  openly 
upon  the  roof,  with  the  usual  bronze  hammer-bearers 
to  strike  the  hours.  Again  the  loving  imitation  of  St. 
Mark.  At  the  northeast  corner  a  heavy,  medieval, 
stone  fortress  tower  rose  above  the  roofs,  grimly  battle- 
mented;  and  below  it  stood  Brescia's  monument  to  the 
heroes  of  the  'Ten  Days,"  showing  the  city  as  a 
marble  female  crowning  her  sons. 

I  entered  the  loggia  of  the  Municipio,  which  was 
adorned  simply  with  the  fine,  monolithic,  supporting 
columns,  of  Corinthian  type,  and  a  very  lovely  portal 
with  four  small  columns  at  the  sides,  having  delicate 
details  of  carved  arabesques  and  serpentine  medal- 
lions. Through  an  atrium  I  reached  the  grand  stair- 
case of  white  stone,  whose  lofty  roof  was  decorated 
with  modern  stucco  reliefs  and  paintings;  it  had  a 
beautiful  balustrade,  and  marble  paneling  at  the  sides. 
But  all  this  was  modern;  the  original  stairway  — 
which  mounted  at  each  side  of  the  atrium,  and  of 
which  I  saw  a  remaining  landing,  broken  off  just 
above  the  doorway  —  having  been  destroyed  in  the 
fire  of  1575.   The  great  upper  hall  then  extended  all 


BRESCIA  THE  BRAVE  439 

the  way  back,  over  the  well  where  this  later  staircase 
now  mounted  in  the  rear.  An  attendant  at  its  top 
took  me  into  the  remaining  half  of  the  hall,  in  front; 
though  entirely  denuded  of  its  marbles,  and  in  a  chaotic 
state  of  commenced  renovation,  the  shapely,  grouped, 
brick  columns  around  the  walls  suggested  visions  of 
its  former  glory.  These  conceptions  were  proved 
correct  a  moment  later,  when,  in  looking  over  the 
offices  partitioned  off  in  the  rear,  I  was  shown  a  little 
painting,  representing  the  hall's  original  design  and 
appearance,  of  truly  wonderful  beauty;  two  other 
paintings  represented  the  plan  of  the  domed  facade, 
and  the  new  hall  now  in  process  of  construction.  (  hie 
office  had  an  elegant,  painted,  wooden  ceiling,  of  Re- 
naissance design,  —  put  up  immediately  after  the 
fire. 

On  emerging  I  inspected  the  sides  and  back  of  the 
palace,  finding  the  unusual  fact  that  the  rich  design 
of  the  fagade  had  been  carried  entirely  around,  so 
that  every  aspect  presented  the  same  sumptuous  and 
dazzling  decoration  of  varied  marbles;  and  the  sides, 
from  their  much  longer  sweep,  produced  a  deeper 
feeling  of  power  and  immensity.  Italy  has  few  struct  - 
ures  so  perfectly  carried  out  and  entirely  harmonized. 

Having  now  seen  Brescia's  capo  <li  lavoro,  I  strolled 
through  the  archway  of  the  clock-tower,  eastward  for 
a  block,  between  closely  set  old  stuccoed  buildin 
and  southward  then,  immediately  into  the  vast  and 
stately  Piazza  del  Duomo.  On  to  the  south  it  extended, 
for  two  hundred  yards,  with  a  breadth  of  fully  seventy 
yards,  to  a  handsome  modern  palace  al  the  farther 
end;  picturesque  old  buildings,  painted  in  softened 
tints  of  brown,  pink,  ochre,  and  green,lined  the  western 
side;  on  the  left  ro><-  fir-'  the  renowned  Broletto,  with 
its  diversified,  Romanesque  fagade,  of  fascinating  in- 


440  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

terest ;  then  the  stupendous  form  of  the  Duomo  Nuovo, 
with  its  ponderous,  Late-Renaissance,  stone  front  and 
soaring  dome;  and  finally,  the  quaint,  round  building 
of  the  Duomo  Vecchio,  looking  very  aged  and  ugly 
in  its  rough-stone  walls,  beside  the  white  magnificence 
of  its  successor. 

The  huge  Broletto,  or  old  town-hall,  I  perceived 
extended  a  long  way  north  from  the  piazza,  along  the 
narrow  street  issuing  from  that  angle,  and  quite  a  dis- 
tance to  the  east,  along  the  street  between  it  and  the 
Duomo  Nuovo,  —  occupying  thus  a  large  block  by 
itself.  It  is  famous  as  one  of  Italy's  finest  Roman- 
esque buildings,  abounding  in  varied,  engaging  de- 
tails of  many  different  generations.  It  has  all  the 
force,  dignity,  and  charming  native  developments  of  the 
civic  structures  erected  in  those  ages  when  the  cities 
were  proud  and  glorious  republics,  not  yet  subjected 
to  the  debasements  of  tyranny.  Therefore,  though 
not  so  finished  and  perfectly  beautiful  as  Gian  Ga- 
leazzo's  Municipio,  it  possesses,  instead,  a  sense  of 
stern  power  and  grandeur,  lightened  by  diverse  de- 
tails of  exquisite  loveliness,  —  with  a  pathos  arising 
from  their  manifestation  of  the  victories  won  by  those 
remote  artisans,  struggling  by  patriotic  inspiration  to 
overcome  the  difficulties  of  artistic  ignorance.  For  it 
is  a  work  of  artisans,  with  each  generation  building 
differently  from  its  predecessors,  —  rather  than  the 
product  of  an  architect's  design;  and  so  it  expresses  the 
aspiring  soul,  the  fiery  spirit,  of  those  long-gone  people, 
written  here  clearly  in  brick  and  stone,  —  the  im- 
perishable record  of  their  struggles  and  slow  advances. 

"In  no  way"  —  wrote  the  learned  Symonds  —  "is 
the  characteristic  diversity  of  the  Italian  communities 
so  noticeable  as  in  their  buildings.  Each  district,  each 
town,  has  a  well-defined  peculiarity,  reflecting  the 


URKSflA       I'ALAZZO   MINK  ll'AI.I         I  It*  t.MKNTONl:    h  A    lilt  IX  l,V 


BRESCIA  THE  BRAVE  441 

specific  qualities  of  the  inhabitants  and  the  conditions 
under  which  they  grew  in  culture."  1 

The  Broletto  was  mostly  built  between  1187  and 
1227,  was  continued  in  the  quattrocento,  and  badly  in- 
jured by  horrible  rococo  changes  in  the  seicento;  but  a 
restoration  of  the  parts  so  mutilated  had  been  recently 
commenced,  in  the  original  style.  Broadly  speaking, 
there  were  five  different  structures:  the  first  on  the 
corner  next  the  Duomo,  of  white  stone,  with  a  line, 
round-arched  portal,  a  long,  corbelled  balcony,  and  a 
series  of  triple,  Romanesque,  marble  windows  on  the 
second  story,  that  were  really  the  most  beautiful  fea- 
ture of  the  whole  building;  —  the  triple  round  arches 
resting  upon  coupled  red-marble  shafts,  and  all  in- 
closed within  a  large  arch,  recessed  with  mouldings. 
Two  of  these  windows  adorned  the  facade,  the  others  ex- 
tended all  along  the  side  toward  the  Duomo;  sonic  had 
been  barbarously  closed  up  in  the  seventeenth  century, 
but  were  now  being  restored.  The  second  part  of  the 
facade,  proceeding  northward,  was  a  high  square  tower 
of  browned  stone,  unbroken,  except  for  three  loop- 
holes, to  its  battlemented  belfry;  the  third  was  a  long 
extent  of  gray  stone,  in  the  two  lower  stories,  and  <>t' 
red  brick  in  the  topmost,  with  irregularly  scattered, 
lovely,  red-and-white  windows,  including  several  of 
three  and  four  lights,  with  white  marble  shafts;  all 
the  upper  windows  had  originally  been  of  thai  charm- 
ing design,3  and  will  be  so  replaced;  the  southernmost 
of  those  remaining,  placed  jusl  over  the  arched  entrance 
to  the  courtyard,  was   the  ancienl    ringhiera,  from 

1  J.  A.  Symonda,  Fins   Ut  .  chap.  n. 

1  These  exquisite  ipecimena  "f  native  dueeento  \\"rk.  among  toe  bond' 
some,t  to  be  found  anywhere,  have  the  voiuaoirs  of  theirarchei  dternal 
red  and  white;  while  the  graceful  ■lender  oolumni  of  white  marble 
coupled  one  behind  the  other,  in  pain. 


442  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

which  proclamations  and  addresses  were  made  to  the 
assembled  people  for  centuries. 

Next  came  a  striking  composition  of  the  quattro- 
cento, in  brick  with  terra-cotta  decoration,  —  the 
fagade  of  the  abandoned  Church  of  S.  Agostino,  once 
a  part  of  the  Broletto:  it  had  an  interesting  Gothic 
doorway,  with  curious,  medieval,  stone  lions'  heads 
projecting  roundabout  from  the  wall,  a  charming 
cotta  rose-window,  and  above  that  a  fine  pointed 
window;  —  but  all  three  were  blocked  up  and  spoiled. 
Finally  came  a  very  early  structure,  on  the  corner, 
and  extending  along  the  northern  side,  composed  of 
heterogeneous  medieval  materials  and  very  homely,  — 
except  for  the  shapely  cotta  frieze  and  cornice.  Adja- 
cent to  this  northwestern  corner  a  tiny  park  stretched 
up  the  first  slope  of  the  castle  hill,  —  which  here  loomed 
far  overhead ;  the  fresh  green  of  the  few  massed  trees 
and  the  shrubbery,  inclosed  between  high  old  dwell- 
ings, delighted  my  tired  eyes;  and  before  them  I 
noticed  a  marble  statue  gleaming,  —  a  young  soldier 
of  fiery  air,  with  musket  and  powder-horn,  but  common 
garments,  and  a  face  so  inspired  with  patriotic  fervor 
that  the  figure  seemed  to  speak  before  my  very  gaze. 
It  was  Tito  Speri,  —  fitly  remembered  here,  at  the 
foot  of  that  fortress  which  he  led  his  fellow  citizens  to 
assault,  and  on  the  very  spot  where  occurred  the 
bloodiest  struggle  of  the  conflict. 

Turning  back,  I  entered  the  courtyard  of  the  Bro- 
letto, —  a  wide  space  arcaded  on  the  north  and  east 
sides,  presenting  another  fanciful  mixture  of  styles; 
the  northern  arcade  was  two-storied  and  of  Renais- 
sance design,  the  eastern,  Gothic;  the  original  western 
one  had  been  built  up;  and  the  windows  above  were 
scattered  in  picturesque  irregularity  and  diversity,  — 
including  three  more,  on  the  south  side,  of  those  lovely 


BRESCIA  THE  BRAVE  443 

Romanesque  ones  with  three  and  four  arches.  Four 
pairs  of  their  coupled,  red-marble  shafts  were  prettily 
twisted  in  spiral  coils.  The  old  stone  walls  had  hern 
patched,  blocked  up  and  reopened,  till  they  looked 
much  like  a  checker  board.  People  were  continually 
passing  in  large  numbers,  using  the  court  as  a  conduit 
from  one  street  to  another;  they  stood  in  groups, 
shouting  at  each  other  with  an  echoing  din;  vehicles 
passed  also,  the  drivers  using  the  arcades  for  stalls, 
and  leading  their  horses  to  drink  at  the  central 
fountain. 

I  crossed  to  the  eastern  arcade,  supported  od  heavy 
stone  piers,  and  found  it  double,  with  "another  row  of 
piers  running  down  the  centre.  .  .  .  The  groining  has 
transverse  and  diagonal  ribs,  the  former  being  very 
remarkable,  and,  as  not  unfrequently  seen  in  good 
Italian  work,  slightly  ogeed." l  This  peculiarity  b1  ruck 
me,  however,  as  quite  unusual,  especially  in  a  cloister. 
There  was  a  long  stately  stone  stairway  here,  which  I 
ascended  to  the  first  floor,  and  there  inspected  a  num- 
ber of  courtrooms  and  council-chambers,  tilled  with 
the  customary  green  baize  table's;  several  of  the  rooms 
on  the  south  side  retained  the  original  early  ceilings, 
with  frescoes  in  crumbling  Renaissance  designs;  and 
there  were  two  of  the  original  big  Romanesque  win- 
dows, But  I  have  seldom  seen  dingier  furniture  than 
that  which  disgraced  these  public  apartments. 

I  next  repaired   to  the  DuomO  NuOVO,  whose  white 

rococo  facade,  erected  about   1600,  i-  more  imposing 

than  pleasing;  it   is  in  two  divisions,  with  Corinthian 

half-columns  and  pilasters  for  ornament;  there  are 

three  ugly  squared  doorway^,  and  one  Upper  window; 

enormous  as  the  dome  is,      third  largest  in  all  [taly, 

—  it  is  concealed  from  the  fronl  by  the  lofty  gable. 

1  Street,  Brick  <""'  Marbb  i»  tfu  MiddU  Agm, 


444  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Like  the  Municipio,  no  expense  has  been  spared  in 
carrying  the  same  wealth  of  material  and  decoration 
around  the  sides  and  rear.  The  adjacent  old  cathe- 
dral, called  from  its  shape  "La  Rotonda,"  dated  orig- 
inally from  the  seventh  century;  but  in  its  present 
form  is  of  the  tenth  or  eleventh, — as  the  medieval 
walls  of  rough  stone  bear  witness. 

Its  large  central  drum  is  pierced  by  a  row  of  round- 
arched  windows  near  the  top,  is  decorated  with  Lom- 
bard pilaster-strips,  and  an  arcaded  cornice,  and  sur- 
rounded by  a  one-story  lean-to,  in  which  opens  the 
main  portal,  of  rococo  design;  a  subsidiary  entrance  is 
in  the  northwest  side.  This  latter  is  of  brick,  round- 
arched,  with  an  old  fresco  of  the  Madonna  and  Saints 
in  its  lunette,  and  opens  upon  a  railed  area  eight  feet 
below,  reached  by  steps  from  the  street,  —  showing 
how  much  the  street  level  has  risen. since  the  build- 
ing's erection.  Eight  feet  in  eight  centuries, — slowly, 
imperceptibly,  by  the  mere  bringing  of  country  mud  on 
horses'  hoofs  and  the  deposit  of  waste;  such  was  the 
inevitable  consequence  of  the  old  method  of  throwing 
all  garbage  into  the  unpaved  streets,  —  which  buried 
all  the  ancient  cities  so  far  beneath  our  levels. 

It  was  now  afternoon,  and  the  cathedrals  were  both 
closed  for  the  siesta  hour;  but  on  another  day  I  en- 
tered the  Duomo  Nuovo,  and  stood  surprised  in  its 
vast,  majestic  interior,  shaped  like  a  Greek  cross, 
dwarfing  all  things  with  its  far-off  vaulting  and  stu- 
pendous dome.  The  dimensions  were  not  only  magni- 
ficent, but  in  perfect  proportions,  and  all  in  light 
hues.  The  enormous  white  piers  separating  nave  from 
aisles  were  adorned  with  Corinthian  half-columns  and 
pilasters,  rising  to  a  rich  frieze  and  cornice;  the  barrel- 
vaulting  of  creamy  stucco  carried  boldly  decorated 
ribs;  around  the  great  drum,  in  its  flood  of  light,  rose 


BRESCIA  THE   BRAVE  445 

other  pilasters  and  cornices,  terminating  in  the  dome 
that  soared  wonderfully  to  heaven. 

By  the  first  two  piers  stood  modern  monuments  to 
deceased  bishops,  with  some  of  the  excellent  sculpture 
of  recent  days;  and  over  the  second  altar  to  the  right 

—  affixed,  like  the  others,  directly  to  the  side  wall  — 
stood  another  and  very  striking  modern  work,  a  mag- 
nificent Renaissance  paZa-frame,  of  four  huge  gilded 
columns  upholding  a  gilded  entablature,  embellished 
with  two  marble  statues.  It  contained  a  painting  by 
Gregoletti,  of  Christ  healing  the  sick.  Next  (<>  this 
came  a  genuine  Renaissance  work,  of  exceeding  at- 
tractiveness: an  exquisitely  carved  marble  sarcopha- 
gus, crowned  by  three  statuettes,  and  cut  upon  the 
front  side  with  three  panels  of  reliefs,  containing  many 
small  figures  of  fine  execution  and  dramatic  action, 

—  scenes  from  the  lives  of  the  saints  whose  bodies 
lay  within;  these  were  Saints  Apollonius  and  Philas- 
trus,  —  early  Bishops  of  Brescia. 

After  one  more  look  about  the  colossal  edifice,  re- 
flecting how  superior  it  was  in  luminosity  and  grace  to 
the  Duomo  of  Florence,  —  which  is  of  much  the  same 
size  and  general  plan,  —  I  followed  the  guiding  sac- 
ristan down  a  passage  to  the  right,  descending  a  High! 
of  steps,  into  the  presbytery  of  the  Duomo  Vecchio. 
The  circular  nave  of  the  tenth  century  lay  still  lower, 
surrounded  by  eight  heavy  piers  bearing  rounded 
arches,  all  of  bare  rough  stone,  likewise  I  he  wall  above 
them,  in  which   the  series  of  unfrained    windows  ad 

mitted  the  light.   Behind  the  piers  circled  an  ambu 

latory,  somewhat  higher,  —  in  which  I  was  shown  B 
remaining  section  of  the  frescoes,  Coeval  with  the  build- 
ing, that  once  covered  its  vaulted  roof;  I  hey  wen  -|  ■  «  r 

fectly  Byzantine,  exactly  like  mosaic  in  design  and 
effect.  Real,  modern  mosaic  covered  the  floor  of  the 


446  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

nave;  but  the  sacristan  lifted  a  trap-door,  displaying 
a  piece  of  the  original  pavement,  one  thousand  years 

old.1 

LTpon  the  west  side  of  the  ambulatory,  adjacent  to 
the  seldom  used  main  entrance,  I  saw  two  fragments  of 
the  old  stairways,  supported  on  heavy  columns  against 
the  wall,  which  once  mounted  to  the  tower  there, 
that  was  demolished  in  1708.  The  ambulatory  further 
contained  some  interesting  early  tombs  and  reliefs; 
chief  among  them,  the  magnificent  red-marble  tomb 
of  Bishop  Berardo  Maggi,  dated  1308.  On  the  cover 
of  the  sarcophagus  lies  the  Bishop  in  full  robes,  with 
mitre  and  crozier,  —  the  four  Evangelists,  in  minia- 
ture, sitting  at  his  head  and  feet;  also  at  the  head  and 
feet,  in  separate  niches,  are  the  two  martyred  bishops, 
Apollonius  and  Philastrus,  and  the  two  protecting 
saints  of  Brescia,  Faustinus  and  Jovita.  Behind  the 
reclining  form  winds  a  most  quaint  procession  of  little 
figures,  —  the  priests  who  composed  the  decedent's 
funeral  cortege,  carrying  all  the  picturesque  parapher- 
nalia of  the  epoch.  On  the  sides  are  St.  George  and 
the  dragon,  Saints  Peter  and  Paul,  and  an  extraordi- 
nary large  tableau  of  the  decedent  being  first  received 
into  a  monastery,  showing  the  friars  headed  by  their 
abbot,  the  friends  and  relatives,  and  two  of  the  monks 
administering  the  oath  to  the  novice.  The  artist  was 
probably  Ugo  da  Campione,  and  it  is  one  of  his 
finest  works. 

1  Among  the  innumerable  grand  pageants  and  historic  ceremonies  that 
have  been  enacted  on  that  pavement,  —  for  every  civic  act  of  medieval 
days  was  consecrated  by  the  Church,  —  we  may  note  the  momentous 
occasion  of  May  30,  1431,  when,  Brescia  having  been  at  last  occupied  by 
Venice,  and  Filippo  Visconti  straining  every  resource  to  recover  the  city, 
amid  a  gorgeous  concourse  of  all  her  notabilities  the  already  beloved 
"standard  of  San  Marco  was  solemnly  consigned  to  Carmagnola;  —  and 
he  took  the  held  in  force."  —  Brown,  Studies  in  the  History  of  Venice. 


BRESCIA  THE  BRAVE  447 

Faustinus  and  Jovita,  of  whom  the  Brescians  think 
so  very  highly,  were  brothers,  natives  of  the  city, 
who  were  converted  by  that  same  St.  Apollonius,  ami 
devoted  their  property  and  lives  to  well-doing;  but 
being  finally  accused  of  the  crime  of  Christianity, 
which  they  admitted  and  refused  to  recant,  they  were 
thrown  to  the  lions, —  who  of  course  declined  to  injure 
them,  —  and  were  then  beheaded.  A  curious  tenth- 
century  relief  of  St.  Apollonius  adorned  the  wall  near 
the  tomb.  On  the  east  side  of  the  ambulatory  were  a 
very  lifelike  and  graceful  trecento  relief  of  the  Ma- 
donna, and  two  more  interesting  tombs:  that  of 
Bishop  Lambertino  di  Bologna,  of  1349,  having  the 
customary  recumbent  figure  on  the  top,  and  the 
Madonna  with  seven  standing  saints  upon  the  front; 
and  another  of  1479,  in  a  niche  having  an  eleganl 
marble  Renaissance  frame. 

Here  steps  ascended  from  the  rotonda  to  the  am- 
bulatory and  from  the  latter  to  the  presbytery, — 
which  was  remarkably  wide,  and  was  added  consider- 
ably later,  together  with  the  long  choir  and  apse. 
Upon  the  apse  wall  hung  Moretto's  splendid  As 
sumption  of  the  Virgin,  —  whose  noble,  majestic 
figure,  seldom  equalled  in  gracious  dignity,  hovers  in 
clouds  amidst  lovely  child-angels,  above  the  apostles 
grouped  in  attitudes  of  amazement.  The  tone  was 
luxurious,  golden  above  and  Bilvery  below,  and  the 
whole  effect  superbly  brilliant.  At  i  i  ->  sides  hung  two 
Romaninos,  of  his  poorer  quality,  Buffering  sadly  by 
the  comparison;  but  below  it  was  :i  Bublime  master- 
piece of  Palma  Vecchio's,  an  Adoration  of  the  Shep- 
herds, of  a  grandeur  of  composition  and  figures,  a 
magnificence  of  tone,  coloring,  and  luminous,  golden 
atmosphere,  that  exalt  the  observer  instantly  into  a 
celestial  sphere.    The  Virgin  with  hex  Infant  -its  at 


448  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

the  right,  the  Shepherds  kneel  at  the  left,  and  behind 
them  stretches  a  lustrous  landscape,  with  flocks  of  sheep 
and  stately  trees  dotting  the  near  velvety  sward, 
and  mighty  mountains  looming  blue  in  the  distance. 
It  is  indeed  impossible  to  conceive  anything  more 
beautiful  than  Palma's  best  works. 

Here  also  was  an  alleged  Giorgione,  a  Christ  falling 
under  the  Cross,  which  is  certainly  not  the  product  of 
that  master,  though  indeed  very  rich  in  hue  and  glow. 
And  in  a  chapel  to  the  right  of  the  choir,  having  a 
citHjueceiito  marble  railing,  adorned  with  six  charm- 
ing putti,  I  saw  five  more  Morettos,  —  a  large  canvas 
of  Elias  sleeping  in  the  Wilderness,  with  a  child-angel 
bringing  food,  and  four  small  paintings  of  the  Evan- 
gelists. Here  was  another  Romanino,  —  a  group  of 
people  at  table,  dispensing  charity.  In  the  chapel  on 
the  left  is  hidden  a  supposed  piece  of  the  true  Cross, 
—  which  is  exhibited  once  every  ten  years,  when  the 
people  become  frantic  with  excitement;  their  perfect 
credulity  is  sometimes  rather  pitiful. 

The  erypt  below  the  choir  and  presbytery  follows 
their  shape,  with  twenty  columns  from  ancient  Ro- 
man edifices,  of  every  size  and  form,  arranged  in  sev- 
eral rows;  their  capitals  are  partially  Roman,  partially 
work  of  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries,  —  when  this 
Church  of  S.  Filastro  was  constructed.  Over  the  altar, 
where  SS.  Filastro  and  Apollonio  were  formerly  buried, 
is  an  almost  destroyed  fresco  of  that  same  period,  re- 
presenting the  Saviour  and  the  two  saints,  in  classic 
embroidered  robes  of  many  colors.  I  could  with 
difficulty  realize  that  I  looked  upon  a  painting  exe- 
cuted in  the  days  of  Constantine  or  Theodosius.1 

1  This  extraordinary  relic  of  Imperial  days,  though  undoubtedly  re- 
touched at  a  later  epoch,  shows  that  even  before  the  coming  of  Byzantine 
art  Roman  painting,  already  thoroughly  decadent,  had  commenced  to  run 


BRESCIA  THE  BRAVE  449 

On  the  second  morning  of  my  stay  I  visited  the 
Piazza  della  Posta,  in  the  rear  of  the  Broletto,  com- 
manding a  fair  view  of  the  overshadowing  castle- 
hill,  with  its  long  green  slope  extensively  covered  with 
trees,  and  at  the  summit  a  large  building  of  rough 
stone,  flanked  by  towers.  This  1  knew  was  the  main 
structure  of  the  ancient  fortress,  which  the  Austrian* 
had  built  over,  and  used  as  a  prison  for  the  patriots. 
On  the  piazza's  eastern  side  lay  the  central  post-office, 
also  the  building  of  the  Queriniana  Library,  dating 
from  1750,  containing  a  number  of  rare  old  manu- 
scripts (including  Dante  and  Petrarch),  medieval 
tomes  illustrated  with  miniatures,  and  other  books  of 
the  ninth  and  tenth  centuries;  but  its  best  treasures 
have  been  transported  to  the  Museo  Medievale. 

Proceeding  a  couple  of  blocks  eastward,  I  came  to 
the  Piazza  del  Museo,  long  and  narrow,  occupying  the 
centre  of  the  ancient  forum;  and  looking  down  it  from 
the  first  slope  of  the  hillside,  as  of  old.  stood  th<'  re- 
constructed Temple  of  Hercules.  Advancing  Dear,  I 
saw  that  its  remaining  original  materials  consisted  of 
the  high  stone  steps,  their  flanking  parapets  of  un- 
faced  brick,  the  bases  and  lower  portions  of  nine  of 
the  ten  great  Corinthian  columns,  one  entire  column, 
and  the  major  part  of  the  brick  wall  of  I  In-  cellce,  — 
from  which,  as  elsewhere,  the  marble  had  Keen  lakiii. 

The  fragmentary  columns  had  been  recently  finished) 
the  walls  of  the  celUs  completed,  :iik1  a  n«u  roof  super- 
imposed; so  that  the  exterior  appearance,  Bave  for  t  be 
marble  facing,  was  as  gracefully  impressive  as  eighteen 
centuries  ago.1 

into  thos«-  shir,  angular,  lifeleai  moulds,  of  conventional  effigies,  which 
were  aH  that  could  be  produced  by  the  mosaics  of  I 
But  there  is  here,  in  the  richly  embroidered  garments,  bintof 

tho  nrt's  preceding  powers, 
1  When  Vespasian  in  M  arrived  with  I  from  the  Best,  marching 


450  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

How  strange  it  was  to  walk  up  these  same  wrorn  steps 
that  such  numberless  Roman  sandals  had  ascended  in 
that  long-ago.  Here  were  the  same  three  doorways 
( with  modern  frames), and  behind  them  thesame  three 
lofty  cellce,  where  the  ancients  prayed  and  sacrificed 
to  the  gods.  The  central,  larger  chamber,  on  whose 
rear  platform  had  stood  the  statue  of  Hercules,  even 
retained  a  part  of  its  original  mosaic  flooring,  roped 
off  in  the  middle,  adorned  with  fine  figures  of  ani- 
mal life.  Around  the  walls  of  all  three  rooms  were 
placed  Roman  remains  of  sculpture  and  architecture,1 
glass  and  earthenware,  coins  and  bronzes,  including 
some  fragments  of  the  huge  image  of  Hercules,  bits 
of  the  temple's  beautiful  entablature,  and  a  few  hand- 
some pieces  of  Roman  armor. 

But  the  most  celebrated  object  of  this  "Museo  Ci- 
vico  Eta  Romana"  wras  its  marvelous  bronze  figure  of 
a  female  charioteer,  over  life-size,  called  the  "Statue 
of  Victory,"  —  wmich  occupied  the  centre  of  the  left 
chamber.  Her  form  is  superbly  modeled  in  the  best 
Greek  style,  clad  only  in  a  thin  clinging  robe,  whose 

along  the  Subalpine  Road,  Brescia  gave  him  a  hearty  welcome;  and  sent 
her  militia  to  aid  his  general,  Ant.  Primo,  in  the  assault  and  capture  of 
Cremona,  —  the  last  stronghold  of  Vitellius.  In  remembrance  thereof, 
Vespasian,  the  following  year,  ordered  the  erection  of  this  splendid  temple 
at  the  head  of  the  Brescian  forum,  and  its  rich  decoration  also,  at  his  own 
expense.  Hence  the  name  by  which  it  has  ever  been  commonly  known,  — 
the  Temple  of  Vespasian. 

1  This  celebrated  collection  demonstrates  in  two  ways  the  size  and 
magnificence  of  ancient  Brescia:  firstly,  by  its  remains  of  so  many  distinct- 
ive buildings  of  high  class,  —  palaces,  porticoes,  temples,  monuments, 
etc.,  —  discovered  in  all  parts  of  the  modern  city,  and  extensively  in  the 
surrounding  fields;  secondly,  by  its  remarkable  aggregation  of  tablets  and 
other  inscriptions,  worthy  of  the  deepest  study,  whose  words  substantiate 
not  only  the  grandeur  of  the  Roman  town,  but  also  its  importance,  —  as 
reflected  in  the  numerous  visits  recorded  of  emperors  and  other  exalted 
personages,  and  their  many  decrees  and  acts  for  the  municipality's  benefit. 
—  As  further  evidence  there  is  the  interesting  series  of  fragments  of  splen- 
did mosaic  pavements,  clearly  from  public  edifices  of  the  highest  rank. 


BRESCIA  THE  BRAVE  451 

loose  folds  are  girded  naturally  about  the  hips,  —  and 
which  is  fastened  together  upon  the  shoulders,  with 
the  right  fastening  slipped  down  upon  the  arm;  the 
hair  is  bound  about  the  temples  with  a  fillet,  and 
the  back  provided  with  wings, —  which  the  Greeks 
seem  to  have  given  to  their  goddess  Nike;  the  left 
foot  is  slightly  raised  upon  a  block,  the  lovely  head 
turned  slightly  to  the  left,  and  the  arms  extended  in 
the  same  direction,  with  fingers  flexed  as  it'  grasping 
the  reins.  For  long  after  her  discovery  in  ls-2(i,  this 
attitude  was  thought  explained  by  placing  the  left 
upper  hand  on  the  top  of  a  shield,  whose  bottom 
rested  upon  the  hip,  and  putting  a  crayon  in  the  lower 
right  hand,  as  if  she  were  writing  upon  the  shield. 
But  recently  it  has  been  discovered  (why  not  I. mil: 
ago,  I  cannot  imagine)  that  the  glance  from  under  her 
lowered  brows  is  directed  keenly  at  some  point  a  little 
distant  on  her  left,  and  of  nearly  the  same  height,  also 
that  her  hands  are  more  naturally  shaped  to  hold  a 
pair  of  reins  than  a  shield  and  pencil.  It  i^  indubitable: 
she  was  standing  in  a  chariot,  driving,  with  her  eyes 
upon  the  horses'  heads,  the  rein-  passing  firs!  through 
her  upper  hand  and  secondly  through  her  right.  If 
the  whole  biga  was  of  the  same  superlative  excellence 
as  this  inspiring  charioteer,  what  a  wonderful  sight 
it  must  have  been!  She  has  all  the  dignity,  grace,  and 
power  of  an  Olympian  goddess;  and  is  rightly  placed 
among  the  half  dozen  greatest  remaining  statues  of 
ant  iquity. 

Two  other  relies  of  the  forum  exist:  one,  a  Corinth- 
ian column  with  a  fragment  of  its  entablature,  and  its 
base  approached  l»y  steps,  located  in  an  excavation 
on  the  easl  side  of  the  piazza,  about  fifteen  f<-.-t  below 
the  level  of  the  street,  —  showing  that  the  forum'fl 
pavement  was  that  much  lower  than   the  present; 


452  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

this  was  clearly  a  portico,  such  as  surrounded  all  the 
imperial  forums.  The  other  relic  consists  of  some  lofty 
columns  embedded  in  a  house  wall,  —  somewhat  to  the 
south  of  the  modern  piazza,  in  the  right-hand  street 
leaving  its  bottom,  —  which  have  been  identified  as  a 
part  of  the  Roman  Curia.  In  the  same  neighborhood 
I  found  another,  unidentified  bit  of  ancient  architect- 
ure, likewise  built  into  a  wall,  and  likewise  calling 
to  mind,  by  its  hint  of  stately  colonnades,  porticoes, 
and  temples,  how  magnificent  this  spot  must  once  have 
been.1  It  was  enough  to  make  one  sigh,  to  look  around 
at  the  present  shabby,  ugly  buildings  and  dingy,  nar- 
row streets. 

How  had  there  come  so  vast  a  change?  Not  through 
the  abused  barbarians,  says  the  modern  critic;2  — 
although  Alaric  in  401  threw  down  the  walls  of  that 
superb  ancient  city,  and  ruined  many  buildings  in  his 
sack,  while  Attila  in  450  repeated  the  process.  The 
greatest  destruction  ensued  gradually  in  the  following 
centuries,  when  through  the  changes  in  laws,  customs 
and  habits  of  thought  under  the  Lombard  rule,  the 
impoverished  and  oppressed  citizens  abandoned  their 
old  amusements,  and  allowed  the  theatres,  temples 
and  public  edifices  to  fall  together  into  ruin.  Then 
began  their  steady  spoliation  for  the  building  of  habi- 
tations, and  the  erection  by  the  nobles  of  their  palace- 

1  AH  these  various  remains,  says  Dr.  Giovanni  Labus  in  his  fine  work  on 
the  Vari  Monumenti  Antichi  in  Brescia,  "record  many  great  and  majestic 
edifices;  amongst  which  were  a  theatre,  also  an  amphitheatre,  .  .  .  and  a 
most  imposing  temple,  indicated  by  a  mighty  column  discovered  in  the 
garden  of  Count  Luzzago."  A  part  of  the  foundations  of  the  great  theatre 
has  been  found  in  the  yard  of  the  building  directly  east  of  the  Temple  of 
Hercules,  —  lately  used  as  a  barrack,  and  therefore  very  difficult  of  access; 
as  was  to  be  expected,  the  ancients  had  made  use  of  the  hillside  for  that 
purpose.  The  amphitheatre,  by  equal  custom,  lay  out  upon  the  plain, 
beyond  the  southern  walls. 

2  Dr.  Giovanni  Labus,  idem. 


BRESCIA  THE  BRAVE  453 

fortresses.  The  disastrous  fires  of  770  and  1097,  and 
the  violent  earthquakes  of  1117  and  1212,  completed 
the  destruction;  for  after  each  catastrophe,  there  was 
no  quarry  so  handy  as  the  stones  of  the  Roman  ruin-. 
The  wonder  is,  then,  that  the  drum  of  a  single  column 
yet  remains  on  its  original  spot,  to  remind  us  of  the 
vanished  magnificence  and  glory  of  Brescia  Augusta. 


CHAPTER  XII 

BRESCIA   LA   FERREA 

Yet  not  in  vain,  although  in  vain, 
O  men  of  Brescia,  on  the  day 
Of  loss  past  hope,  I  heard  you  say 
Your  welcome  to  the  noble  pain.  — 

Ah !  not  for  idle  hatred,  not 
For  honor,  fame,  nor  self-applause, 
But  for  the  glory  of  the  cause 
You  did  what  will  not  be  forgot. 

—  Ahthur  Clough. 

From  ancient  Brescia  I  advanced  to  medieval  Brescia, 
by  leaving  the  old  forum  for  the  group  of  churches  a 
block  farther  east,  —  in  one  of  which  is  located  her 
Museo  Medievale.  This  is  the  desecrated  edifice  of 
S.  Giulia,  a  little  to  the  left,  upon  the  east  side  of 
the  next  street,  Via  Gambara,  and  at  the  very  foot 
of  the  castle  hill.  The  street  which  I  was  following, 
Via  Santa  Giulia,  runs  east  and  west  at  the  bottom 
of  the  slope;  and  here,  in  this  angle  between  the  two 
ways,  King  Desiderius  erected  the  great  convent  of  S. 
Giulia,  a  large  block  of  buildings  now  containing  three 
churches, —  S.  Salvatore,  S.  Giulia,  and  S.  Maria  del 
Solario.1    The  last  faces  upon  Via  S.  Giulia  a  little 

1  This  was  done  by  the  King  partly  as  a  religious  offering,  partly  for  the 
sake  of  his  daughter  Ansilperga,  who  wished  to  take  the  veil.  Accordingly 
she  became  the  first  Abbess  of  the  convent,  choosing  Santa  Giulia  for  its 
patron,  and  surrounding  herself  with  a  following  of  noble  maidens  from  the 
highest  bombard  aristocracy.  To  females  of  such  birth  the  convent  was 
thereafter  always  restricted,  causing  it  to  be  considered,  until  its  closure, 
one  of  t ! i « -  two  or  three  most  select  in  Europe.  Its  wealth  was  in  accord- 
ance, for  Desiderius  had  most  richly  endowed  it. 


BRESCIA  LA  FERREA  45.3 

beyond  the  corner;  S.  Salvatore  lies  behind  S.  Giulia, 
at  a  lower  level.  The  convent  is  abolished  now,  its 
two  oldest  churches  kept  only  as  antiquities,  and  the 
third  given  over  to  the  uses  of  the  museum. 

S.  Giulia  was  too  recent  to  serve  as  an  antique, 
having  been  constructed  in  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth 
centuries;  and  accordingly  I  found  its  facade  to  be  of 
Renaissance  design,  surprisingly  handsome,  all  in 
gleaming  white  stone.  It  had  two  lofty  divisions,  both 
adorned  with  fine  Corinthian  pilasters,  and  sur- 
mounted by  a  gable.  Entering  by  a  side  passage,  on 
showing  my  governmental  pass  I  was  admitted  by  the 
custode  to  the  spacious  interior.  Here  a  unique  sight 
confronted  me:  a  wide,  high-arched  uave  without 
aisles,  columns,  or  transept,  with  a  choir  of  the  same 
width  and  height,  and  an  intervening  presbytery 
marked  by  two  triumphal  arches;  the  plastered  walls 
and  ceiling  of  the  choir  being  covered  with  buge  glis- 
tening frescoes,  vividly  colored;  while  the  whole  space 
was  rilled  from  end  to  end  with  monuments,  statuary, 
showcases,  weapons,  armor,  ivory  carvings,  architect- 
ural fragments,  bronzes,  —  a  vast  collection  of  objet* 
d'art  of  every  size  and  kind,  all  products  of  the  '"Dark 
Ages,"  and  demonstrating  bow  far  from  dark   tiny 

really  were. 

The  choir,  built  first  as  a  church  in  itself,  aboui  1  Hill, 
carried  three  curious  stucco  arches  on  each  side  wall, 
inclosing  altars;  t  he  nave,  built  in  1599,  carried  a  band- 
some  stone  frieze  and  cornice  roundabout,  sustained 
by  Corinthiao  pilasters  ascending  between  it-  side 
ait;ir  places.  I  first  examined  the  rivid,  retouched 
frescoes  of  the  choir,  finding  the  si. I.-  r<  -  also 

completely  painted  with  scenes,      on  the  back  walls, 
lateral  spaces,  Boffits,  and  wall  above,     all  dingly 

bright,  dramatic,  and  picturesque;  these  were  works 


456  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

of  Ferramola,  Zoppo,  and  the  younger  Foppa,  —  thus 
varying  from  quattrocento  simplicity  to  cinquecento 
freedom.  The  abundant  retouching  had  greatly  ob- 
scured the  original  mannerisms;  but  the  pictures  were 
still  interesting,  and  the  tout  ensemble  presented  a  more 
brilliant  effect  than  any  of  like  nature  I  had  found. 

The  work  on  the  right  was  Zoppo's,  —  and  the 
poorest,  —  consisting  of  scenes  from  the  Passion; 
that  in  the  first  two  recesses  on  the  left  was  Ferra- 
mola's,  mostly  ruined  by  the  "restorer,"  but  includ- 
ing a  Deposition  finely  composed  and  full  of  feeling; 
that  on  the  end  wall  was  Foppa's,  and  much  the  best, 
consisting  of  a  huge  Crucifixion,  with  eight  small 
tableaux  at  the  sides,  and  below.  The  Crucifixion 
was  an  excellent  picture,  not  retouched,  being  strongly 
spaced  and  disposed,  and  quietly  colored,  with  well- 
drawn  figures  of  considerable  grace  and  expression, 
and  an  originally  fine  background  and  sky-effect.  The 
paintings  on  the  upper  side-walls,  above  the  archways, 
were  better  preserved,  and  generally  better  done,  than 
those  below  them;  they  were  entirely  from  the  New 
Testament;  but  their  authorship  is  uncertainly  scat- 
tered amongst  the  three  artists  and  their  pupils. 

The  third  archway  on  the  left  contained  something, 
however,  that  was  more  beautiful  and  impressive  than 
all  the  brushwork,  —  the  magnificent  marble  mauso- 
leum of  Count  Marcantonio  Martinengo :  a  celebrated 
cinquecento  sculpture,  among  the  richest  in  North 
Italy.  It  was  in  the  accepted  form  of  a  sarcophagus 
raised  upon  columns,  which  rested  upon  an  ornamental 
base;  but  in  this  instance  it  backed  against  the  wall, 
leaving  but  three  sides  exposed,  with  pilasters  corre- 
lating to  the  four  columns  in  front;  and  its  height  was 
unusual,  being  fully  ten  feet.  The  exuberant  and 
fanciful  decoration  of  the  cinquecento  covered  every- 


BRESCIA  LA  FERREA  457 

thing  with  richest  reliefs,  —  columns,  base,  pilasters, 
back  panels,  entablature,  and  sarcophagus;  the  frieze 
was  of  bronze  plates,  with  a  great  many  little  figures 
in  procession;  five  large  square  plates  adorned  the 
sarcophagus,  showing  scenes  from  the  Passion;  three 
round  ones  decorated  the  rear  panels,  and  a  Dumber 
of  little  round  ones  the  bases  of  the  columns;  —  but 
seventeen  altogether  of  these  bronze  pieces  still  re- 
mained in  France,  whither  they  had  been  carried 
in  the  wars. 

Those  returned  to  their  places  are  the  best  work  of 
the  monument,  especially  the  scene  of  the  Scourging, 
—  and  the  populace  fleeing  from  a  plague,  upon  the 
frieze.  Further  lustre  is  added  to  the  tomb  by  the 
varied  colors  of  the  marbles,  —  white  above,  gray  in 
the  entablature,  white  in  the  capitals  and  the  plinths 
of  the  columns  and  pilasters  (these  plinths  are  cut 
with  mermaids  at  the  angles),  and  silvery  gray  again 
in  the  shafts  and  bases.  Charming  arabesques  are 
relieved  upon  the  white  rear  panels,  and  draped  about 
the  columns  and  pilasters;  and  the  circular  bronze 
plaques  in  the  bases  of  the  latter  bear  fascinating  lit  t  It- 
groups,  of  two  to  four  figures  each.  At  tin- «mi<1  of  an 
hour's  inspection,  I  kept  finding  new  delightful  de- 
tails that  had  yet  escaped  me.  Unfortunately,  the 
worker  of  this  masterpiece  is  unknown. 

A  whole  day  could  comfortably  be  spenl  in  examin- 
ing the  treasure-,  thai  crowd  these  wonderful  halls. 
Prominent  among  them  I  aoticeda  remarkable  Dutch 
seicenio  ivory  sculpture,  half  life  size,  placed  in  the 
presbytery,  —  representing  very  realistically  the  Sacri- 
fice of  Abraham;  foremosl  in  the  nave  were  some* 
of  Lombard  jeweled  work,  including  the  renowned 
Cross  of  Galla  Placidia,  aboul  fourfeel  high,  Greek  in 
shape,  made  of  w I  covered  with  silver  and  embused 


458  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

with  two  hundred  and  twelve  different  antique  gems 
and  cameos.  These  stones  were  mainly  of  large  size, 
of  every  ancient  epoch  and  origin,  and  studded  both 
the  sides  very  closely.  At  the  centre  of  one  side  was 
a  wooden,  gilded,  archaic  figure  of  the  throned  Christ, 
and  at  the  other,  a  Crucifix.  The  crudeness  of  the 
Christ,  and  of  the  cuttings  of  some  of  the  gems  done 
at  that  period,  —  the  very  mountings  of  the  stones, 
in  clumsy  bands  of  silver,  all  showed  the  artistic  dark- 
ness of  the  makers. 

But  most  interesting  of  all,  and,  in  fact,  one  of  the 
half-dozen  most  interesting  relics  of  North  Italy,  was 
the  aureographic  miniature  at  the  bottom  of  one  side, 
showing  with  a  startling  lifelikeness,  fairly  photo- 
graphic, a  young  mother  with  her  two  children.  Here 
I  was  looking  upon  persons  dead  fourteen  centuries, 
—  historically  famous  persons,  —  Galla  Placidia  her- 
self, with  her  young  son  Valentinian  III,  and  her 
daughter  Honoria!  It  was  indeed  startling,  to  have 
these  royal  personages  suddenly  emerge  from  the  far- 
off,  classic  age  of  Rome,  —  which  has  left  us  no  other 
such  photographic  likenesses,  —  and  look  one  as  nat- 
urally in  the  face,  garbed  with  simple  costumes,  as  if 
they  were  alive  to-day.  It  seemed  incredible  that  I 
could  really  be  beholding  ancient  Romans,  —  in  a 
picture  of  their  own  mystical  era.  Upon  the  dark 
circle  of  the  glass,  the  three  busts  appeared  looking 
out  at  me,  —  Placidia  and  her  young  son  of  seven 
or  eight  years  seated  in  front,  Honoria  standing  in 
the  rear;  they  were  clad,  as  I  have  said,  in  the  very 
simplest  of  garments,  which  rather  accentuated  the 
homeliness  of  their  elongated  features;  the  females 
wore  a  sort  of  pompadour  roll,  brushed  from  their  high 
foreheads,  and  Placidia  had  also  a  pearl  necklace  about 
her  throat,  and  pearl  pendants  in  her  ears.  In  coloring 


BRESCIA  LA  FERREA  459 

and  faithfulness  to  nature,  it  was  quite  like  a  daguerreo- 
type of  sixty  years  ago.1 

Placidia  was  the  daughter  of  Theodosius  the  Great, 
reared  with  every  advantage  of  education  and  accom- 
plishment; and  when  at  his  death  the  Empire  was 
definitely  divided  between  her  brothers  Arcadius  and 
Honorius,  she  accompanied  the  latter  to  his  Roman 
throne.  Then  came  Alaric,  with  his  three  successive 
sieges  of  the  Capital,  —  upon  whose  surrender  Placi- 
dia became  a  Gothic  captive,  compelled  to  follow  about 
Italy  in  their  train.  The  cowardly  Honorius  had  taken 
refuge  in  Ravenna.  His  sister,  then  about  twenty 
years  of  age,  must  have  had  greater  charms  than  are 
shown  in  this  likeness  of  the  woman  of  thirty-five,  for 
she  soon  fascinated  Adolphus,  the  brother-in-law  and 
brilliant  general  of  Alaric;  and  when  Adolphus  became 
King  of  the  Visigoths,  at  Alaric's  death  soon  after- 
ward, Placidia  married  him,  despite  the  thunders  of 
the  Emperor. 

1  This  wonderful  aureograph  was  executed  f'>r  Placidia,  about  125,  by 
Bonneri.i.  a  Greek  artificer,  probably  domiciled  at  Ravenna,  where  she  was 
reigning.  From  her  it  passed  into  the  possession  of  (he  cathedral  treasury 
there;  where  it  still  Ly  when  Kin-  Desiderius,  two  centuries  later,  placed 
a  prelate  favorite  of  his,  one  Michele,  on  the  vacant  archiepiscopal  throne 
by  force  of  arms.  Michele  in  return  stripped  the  treasury  of  its  choi 
valuables  for  a  thank-offering  to  the  King,  including  amongst  them  the 

Cross  of  Placidia,  and  many  of  the  other  jewels  now  ex\ d  in  the  M 

scum.    Desiderius,  doubtless  stricken  by  superstitious  fears,  n  turned 

duables  so  earned  to  his  daughter  insilp  i  I   9 

Giufia,— thinking  thus  to  make  his  peace  with  an  offend  IH  I 

Cross  and  jewels  then  remained  in  the  treasury  of  tl  ■'  until  I 

dissolution  of  the  latter,  when  they  became  the  propertj  of  the  mur, 
pality  of  Brescia.  —  Bonnerii  Sig.Odorici.  "extended  ov.  md 

glass  a  gold  leaf,  and  upon  that,  with  most  tubtle  skill,  by  th<  md 

points  of  a  pen  outlined  these  portraits.    Tl  ■  •'"» 

worked  in  lilver;  leaving  us  his  own  name  in  the  fold,  be  removed 
superfluity  of   the  leaf,  and  covered  the  work  with  ■  dark-blue  Unti 
There  resulted  distinct  gradations  of  tbeckUmueun.  tl 
lories,  the  most  delicate  shades  of  the  imperceptible  metaoUnti 
Bresciane  (.toprn). 


460  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Adolphus  then  became  reconciled  with  Honorius, 
and  led  his  barbarian  host,  as  Roman  general-in-chief, 
to  bring  back  the  rebellious  Gauls  to  their  allegiance. 
His  queen  accompanied  him,  and  at  Narbonne,  accord- 
ing to  Gothic  custom,  their  delayed  wedding-feast  was 
celebrated  upon  the  first  anniversary  of  their  nup- 
tials. Adolplius  made  his  gift  to  the  bride  in  the  shape 
of  "fifty  beautiful  youths,  in  silken  robes,  [who]  car- 
ried a  basin  in  each  hand;  and  one  of  these  basins  was 
filled  with  pieces  of  gold,  the  other  with  precious 
stones  of  an  inestimable  value."1  This  vast  wealth  of 
gems  was  "an  inconsiderable  portion"  of  the  endless 
treasures  seized  by  the  barbarians  in  Italy,  where 
the  gold  and  precious  stones  of  the  world  had  been 
accumulating  for  four  hundred  years,  drawn  by  the 
conquerors  from  every  country.  An  indescribable 
sensation  seized  me  as  I  realized  that  these  very 
gems  before  me,  which  had  been  Placidia's,  must  have 
come  to  her  in  those  same  basins  from  Adolphus. 
What  stranger  and  more  intimate  contact  with  the 
remote  past  could  there  be,  than  this  lifting  of  its 
veil  for  an  instant's  revelation. 

But  when  the  Goths  had  subjugated  Gaul,  and  ad- 
vanced into  Spain  for  a  similar  purpose,  Placidia's 
troubles  began:  her  first  child  died,  Adolphus  was 
assassinated,  and  his  widow  —  "dragged  in  chains  by 
his  insulting  assassin." 2  The  latter  was  also  murdered, 
after  seven  days;  Wallia  became  king,  and  consented 
to  a  treaty  with  Honorius  by  which  his  sister  was  re- 
turned to  him.  She  arrived  joyfully  at  Ravenna,  only 
to  find  that  a  new  marriage  for  her  had  already  been 
arranged,  —  with  the  Roman  general,  Constantius. 
Placidia,  resisting,  was  forced  to  yield;  but  she  soon 
came  to  love  her  manly  husband,  and  bore  him  the 

1  Gibbon,  vol.  in,  chap.  xxxi.     *  Gibbon,  vol.  in,  chap,  xxxni. 


BRESCIA  LA  FERREA  461 

two  children  now  before  me.  Again  misfortune  came, 
with  the  death  of  Constantius,  and  a  subsequent  quar- 
rel with  Honorius;  which  obliged  Placidia  and  her 
children  to  seek  a  refuge  in  Constantinople,  with  ber 
nephew  Theodosius  the  younger. 

The  death  of  Honorius  followed,  and  Theodosius 
by  force  of  arms  seated  the  child  Valentinian  III  on 
the  Western  throne,  with  his  mother  Placidia  as  regent. 
Valentinian  was  then  six  years  of  age,  so  this  por- 
trait must  have  been  executed  within  a  Near  or  two 
afterward.  He  grew  up  a  dissolute,  weak  youth,  leav- 
ing the  reins  of  government  to  his  mother,  who  held 
them  amidst  ever  increasing  anxieties  and  dangers, 
for  twentv-five  vears.  The  Goths,  the  Vandals,  and 
the  Huns  pressed  her  territories  more  firmly  upon 
every  side;  and  internal  rebellions  added  to  the  con- 
stant ferment.  Spain  and  Africa  were  lost,  the  north- 
ern provinces  overrun.  Amidst  it  all,  Placidia's  trou- 
bles were  aggravated  by  the  conduct  of  ber  daughter. 
This  pure-eyed  Honoria  whom  I  looked  upon,  only 
four  or  five  years  later,  at  sixteen  years  of  age,  yielded 
to  the  illicit  love  of  the  chamberlain  Eugenius;  upon 
its  discovery  the  shame  of  the  royal  family  became 
published  to  all  the  world,  and  Honoris  was  imprisoned 
for  fourteen  years  in  the  Court  of  Constantinople. 
At  last  in  despair  she  made  seerel  advances  I"  Attila, 
King  of  the  Huns,  who  bad  once  desired  ber;  upon  the 
discovery  of  this  offense  she  was  returned  in  horror  to 
Italy,  and  "the  ceremony  of  marriage  was  performed 
with  some  obscure  and  Dominal  husband,  before  she 
was  immured  in  a  perpetual  prison."  ittila  again 
demanded  her  as  his  bride;  and  she  would  eventually 
have  been  given  up  to  him,  for  th<-  safety  of  ftaly, 
had  he  not  suddenly  expired  in  the  arms  of  a  new  addi- 
i  Gibbon,  vol  m,  chap 


162  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

tion  to  his  countless  wives,  —  just  as  Honoria  was 
about  to  be  taken  from  her  prison.  She  therefore  occu- 
pied it  until  her  death. 

Placidia  died  in  450,  worn  out  by  all  her  sorrows 
and  anxieties,  leaving  Italy  to  the  hands  of  the  worth- 
less Valentinian,  who  hurried  the  country  to  its  doom. 
Incapable  of  gratitude  or  forethought,  he  murdered 
with  his  own  hand,  out  of  jealousy,  the  only  man  who 
could  have  preserved  his  kingdom  from  the  encroach- 
ing barbarians,  and  who  had  acted  as  such  preserver 
for  twenty  years,  —  his  general,  Aetius.  This  deed  he 
followed  with  the  violation  of  the  wife  of  the  promin- 
ent Senator,  Maximus.  The  latter  took  his  revenge; 
and  only  five  years  after  Placidia's  death  her  son  fell 
under  the  swords  of  assassins,  leaving  Rome  to  the  ter- 
rible sack  of  Genseric  and  the  Vandals,  three  months 
later.  Such  was  the  miserable  fate  of  these  innocent 
children  that  I  gazed  upon. 

I  turned  my  eyes  to  the  examination  of  the  other 
exhibits.  There  were  handsome  faience  and  majolica, 
statuettes,  bronzes,  Venetian  glass  and  enamel,  medal- 
lions and  coins,  niello  work  and  Limoges  enamel, 
marble  sculpture  and  reliefs,  —  every  sort  of  artistic 
workmanship,  of  the  medieval  and  Early-Renaissance 
eras;  perhaps  most  pleasing  of  all  to  me  were  the 
ivory  carvings,  of  that  delicacy  and  quaint  grace  in 
which  the  Late-Roman  and  Middle  Ages  excelled. 
Amongst  these  was  prominent  the  so-called  "Lip- 
sanoteca,"  a  cross-shaped  reliquary  of  the  fourth 
century,  covered  with  remarkably  lifelike  figures,  well 
disposed  in  natural,  easy,  dramatic  action;  also,  the 
three  extraordinary  diptychs,  —  one  of  the  fourth 
century  (the  "Querinianum"),  with  figures  of  truly 
wonderful  modeling  and  beauty,  and  two  of  the  sixth 
century    (the    "Boethius"    and    "Lampadius"),    of 


BRESCIA  LA  FERRKA  463 

which  the  former  showed  much  decadence,  and  the 
latter  was  almost  crude. 

From  the  choir,  —  near  a  cinqnecento  Lecturn  of 
beautiful  carving  and  tarsia,  and  a  long  case  laden 
with  medieval  choirbooks  having  exquisite  minia- 
tures, —  I  had  looked  through  a  barred  opening  next 
the  floor,  into  a  much  lower  stone  hall  with  rows  of 
ancient  columns.  On  now  descending  a  flight  of  stairs, 
this  hall  proved  to  be  the  nave  of  S.  Salvatore.  The 
eighth-century  structure  of  King  Desiderius  had  been 
recently  restored  from  a  crumbling  condition.  Leaving 
the  old  Roman  columns  where  they  had  been,  five  on 
one  side  and  seven  on  the  other,  diverse  in  size  and 
shape  and  capitals.  After  S.  Michele  of  Pavia,  this  is 
the  oldest  standing  church  of  the  Lombards  in  its 
original  state.  In  the  end  wall  opened  a  low  r< •< -. •-> 
that  once  contained  the  high-altar;  and  under  this  lay 
a  crypt  containing  more  ancient  columns,  thirty-six 
in  number,  smaller  than  those  above,  bul  quite  ridicu- 
lously variegated,  and  set  astonishingly  close  together. 

I  observed  some  neglected,  decaying  frescoes  here: 
to  the  right  in  the  antechamber,  several  by  Etomanino, 
mostly  destroyed:  on  the  entrance  wall  of  the  nave  and 
in  a  denuded  chapel  to  the  left,  a  Dumber  by  Poppa 
and  his  pupils,  —  including  some  charming  scattered 
angels  here  and  there,  flying  aimlessly,  and  a  Cruci- 
fixion of  superior  grace  and  quality.  To  the  right 
opened  another  little,  dark,  bare  room,  in  which  I  stood 
for  a  while  gazing  wit h  an  unavoidable  feeling  ' 't  Bad- 
ncs  at  a  slab  in  its  Bagged  floor;  lor  under  t  li.it  had 
once  been  laid  to  rest,  so  long  ago  aa  to  he  almosl 
entirely  forgotten,  thai  unfortunate  woman,  Desid- 
erata (also  called  Brmengarda),  the  sister  of  Ansil 
perga  the  first  Abbess,  and  the  daughter  of  I  >esiderius, 
the  lasl  Lombard  King,  who  consented  to  be  a  lacrifice 


464  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF   ITALY 

to  save  her  country,  but  was  spurned  and  sent  home 
again  by  Charlemagne.1  The  war  then  resulted  which 
ended  in  the  destruction  of  her  father's  realm.  How 
near  it  was  all  brought  by  this  physical  contact;  what 
a  dreary,  desolated  resting-place  was  this  for  the  wife 
of  Charlemagne,  —  but  yet  how  consonant  with  the 
dissolution  of  her  family  and  race! 

The  last  of  the  three  convent  churches  now  drew 
my  attention,  —  S.  Maria  del  Solario,  whose  facade 
of  the  twelfth  century  proved  to  be  most  extraordin- 
ary: it  was  built  of  huge  Roman  blocks  taken  from 
ancient  edifices,  as  the  fragmentary  Latin  inscriptions 
showed ;  and  the  lofty  bare  wall  was  pierced  only  with 
a  left-hand  doorway  and  two  tiny  barred  windows  on 
the  ground  story,  and  two  larger  but  simple  windows 
on  the  second  story.  The  only  ornamentation  was  a 
Lombard  frieze  and  string-course;  and  at  the  top  rose 
a  Romanesque  octagonal  drum,  having  a  colonnaded 
window  of  six  lights  in  its  front  side.  The  custodian 
of  the  museum,  who  kept  also  the  key  to  this  church, 
and  had  therefore  accompanied  me,  now  extended  the 
information  that  the  prison-like  openings  of  the  ground 
floor  formerly  gave  light  to  the  convent's  treasure- 
chamber,  and  that  the  church  was  upon  the  floor 
above. 

We  entered  and  ascended  the  old  worn  stairs,  while 
I  reflected  how  strange  it  felt  to  be  climbing  to  a 
church  located  like  a  bedchamber.  Its  interior  was 
still  stranger:  square  in  shape,  of  medium  size,  with  its 
plastered  walls  broken  only  by  three  round  arches  on 
the  east  side,  for  altars,  and  by  the  two  little  windows 
on  the  south  side,  and  covered  overhead  with  a  wide 

1  The  reason  for  this  famous  divorce,  though  ascribed  by  several  of  the 
old  chroniclers  to  the  physical  condition  of  the  unfortunate  woman,  has 
ever  been  shrouded  in  a  peculiar  mystery. 


BRESCIA  LA  FERREA  465 

flat  dome,  —  it  yet  gleamed  and  flashed  with  a  thou- 
sand bright  tints  radiating  from  every  wall  and  arch- 
way, which  moved  with  counties  vivid,  life-size  fig- 
ures, arranged  in  groups  and  large  scenes,  from  New 
Testament  history.  The  effect  to  a  stranger  entering 
was  startling.  These  frescoes,  said  the  cusiode,  were 
the  work  of  Bernardino  Luini,  the  Milanese,  and  bis 
followers,  between  1513  and  lolS;  and  tin-  graceful 
figures,  so  remarkably  preserved  in  the  freshness  of 
their  gay  coloring,  bore  out  the  statement  with  their 
Leonardesque  faces.  Yet  the  absence  of  any  genius, 
or  even  high  ability,  indicated  that  if  Luini  took  the 
contract,  and  made  the  designs,  the  brushwork  must 
have  been  entirely  by  his  pupils. 

The  three  altar-recesses  contained  two  groups  of 
Madonna  iind  Saints,  and  a  group  of  monk-;  over 
them  w^as  a  large  Crucifixion,  of  superior  quality;  on 
the  left  wall,  below,  were  four  panels  from  the  life  of 
S.  Giulia,  and  above  them,  a  huge  Last  Supper;  the 
right  wall,  from  bottom  to  top,  held  a  group  of  saints, 
a  Conversion  of  St.  Paul,  and  Chris!  bearing  t  lie  ( Iross. 
All  the  pictures  were  principally  distinguished  for 
their  strong  free  spacing,  and  their  graceful  figun 
draped  finely  in  garments  of  striking  hue;  being  th 
very  decorative,  though  neither  dramatic  nor  "f 
mueli  feeling.  My  thoughts  turned  involuntarily  upon 
the  twenty  generation-  of  sombre  nuns  that  bad  wor- 
shiped in  this  chamber,  until  Napoleon  suppressed 
the  convent  in  17!>7;  and  up<>n  the  countenances  of 
lofty  rank  thai  bad  been  bidden  behind  all  those  i  om- 
mon  veils.  Seven  queens  bad  been  among  them,  and 
one  hundred  and  nine  princesses;  while  the  rest  had 
been  daughters  of  the  highesi  nobility.    Ye\  their  life 

was  not   hard,  for  they  bad   I"  wait  upon   them  numer- 
ous humble  serving  women  of  t  he  lay-sister  da 


466  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Another  walk  through  this  eastern  quarter  took  me 
first  to  the  Church  of  S.  Clemente,  a  little  to  the  south 
of  Piazza  del  Museo,  facing  north  upon  a  narrow  lane 
named  after  it.  The  facade  was  one  of  those  Late- 
Etenaissance,  stucco  creations,  with  stone  trimmings; 
the  interior  was  a  dark  basilica  without  aisles  or  tran- 
sept, but  with  a  large  chapel  at  the  end,  whence 
Moretto's  great  canvas  of  Madonna  and  Saints  glowed 
down  from  the  high-altar  with  a  brilliancy  that  dis- 
pelled the  gloom;  and  from  the  side  altars  glistened, 
in  beautiful  tones,  four  other  Moretto  masterpieces, 
—  which  join  in  making  the  place  a  monument  to  his 
genius.  I  know  but  few  other  churches  so  entirely 
given  over  to  the  glory  of  a  single  artist  of  the  first  rank. 

On  the  first  altar  to  the  left  stood  the  remarkable 
picture  of  St.  Ursula  and  her  Virgins,  of  life-size,  — 
the  lovely  form  of  the  saint  in  the  centre,  holding  in 
one  hand  the  banner  of  the  Church,  a  crown  of  gold 
and  jewels  upon  her  head,  her  eyes  directed  sadly  but 
sweetly  to  the  danger  concealed  upon  the  right;  it  is 
a  scene  of  brighter  tone  and  stronger  lighting  than  was 
usual  with  Moretto.  Over  the  second  altar  I  saw  the 
Madonna  with  Saints  Catherine  of  Siena  and  Cather- 
ine of  Alexandria,  seated  aloft  upon  a  high  stone  altar 
draped  with  a  handsome  rug,  and  Saints  Jerome  and 
Paul  standing  below,  —  the  scene  darkly  toned,  the 
colors  faded,  the  lustre  lingering  only  in  the  silken 
sheen  of  the  Madonna's  light  blue  robe,  and  the  chief 
beauty  resting  in  her  charming,  expressive  face.  Over 
the  third  altar  I  observed  Christ  in  glory  with  the 
Cross,  and  Abraham  and  Melchizedek  below,  the  priest 
handing  the  warrior  bread  and  wine;  these  forms  were 
also  life-size  and  powerful;  and  in  the  dark  gray  tone, 
without  light  or  color,  the  strongly  modeled  figure 
of  the  Christ  looked  very  melancholy. 


BRESCIA  LA  FERREA  467 

Opposite  on  the  right  side,  over  the  second  altar, 
glowed  Moretto's  famous  composition  of  Saints 
Cecilia,  Agnes,  Agatha,  Lucia,  and  Barbara,  —  five 
rounded  female  figures,  taken  from  the  same  model, 
of  exquisite  grace  and  pensiveness,  vrry  naturally 
composed;  again,  however,  the  coloring  was  lost,  and 
the  tone  gray  and  cold,  without  effective  background. 
The  greatest  work  of  them  all  was  the  high-altar  piece, 
of  the  Madonna  in  glory  above  three  standing  male 
saints,  and  two  female  saints  seated  al  the  lower  cor- 
ners, within  an  architectural  hemicycle,  —  the  Ma- 
donna carrying  her  Child  and  surrounded  by  putii; 
a  most  brightly  hued,  luminous,  and  blissful  scene, 
with  effective  light  and  shadow,  grace  of  form  and 
arrangement,  and  an  expression  of  deep  Feeling. 

From  this  church  I  passed  to  another  two  blocks 
farther  east,  S.  Maria  Calchera,  containing  important 
examples  of  both  of  Brescia's  great  masters,  behind 
a  stucco  facade  of  rococo  ugliness.  The  interior  was 
also  rococo,  overladen  with  offensive  stucco  ornament- 
ation, —  a  nave  of  two  domes  without  aisles  <»r  tran- 
sept, having  stucco  pilasters  rising  between  the  side 
altars,  to  a  very  rich  cornice,  with  the  only  lighl  com" 
ing  dimly  from  top  windows  on  the  right.  Over  the 
fir>t  altar  to  the  lefl  stood  Moretto's  wonderful  picture 

ofChrisI  at  dinner  with  Simon,  and  Mary  bat  hing  his 
feet,  —  of  great  naturalness  in  the  persons,  postures, 
expressions,  and  accessories,  in  a  dusk}  atmosphere 
and  dim  light;  though  the  colors  again  had  laded,  the 
deep  feeling  in  Mary's  agonized,  penitent  face  and 
Christ's  benevolent,  Jewish  features,  together  with  the 
realism  of  the  garments,  table,  and  in  fad  the  whole 
-citing,  made  an  appeal  of  profound  emotion. 

Second  to  the  right  was  a Romanino  of  best  quality, 
St.  Apollonius  blessing  the  Host,  between  four  persons 


168  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

on  each  side,  two  kneeling,  all  richly  clothed  in  green 
and  gold,  and  executed  with  pleasing  flesh-work  and 
accessories;  the  saint,  facing  outward,  was  backed  by 
a  low  altar  carrying  a  painting  of  the  Pieta,  which  was 
cleverly  differentiated  from  the  reality.  In  a  little 
chapel  on  the  right  I  found  another,  small  Moretto,  — 
the  dead  Christ  on  his  tomb,  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross, 
with  Saints  Dorothea  and  Jerome  kneeling  by  it; 
much  damaged,  but  still  full  of  grace  and  sentiment. 
Behind  the  high-altar  rose  a  Visitation,  of  life-size, 
containing  a  number  of  spectators  watching  the  per- 
formance, including  a  charming  Brescian  girl  in 
cinquecento  costume;  this  was  one  of  the  canvases 
painted  for  Brescia  by  Calisto  Piazza  of  Lodi,  during 
a  visit  of  some  duration. 

The  street  running  along  the  northern  side  of  this 
church,  Via  Trieste,  is  the  main  thoroughfare  of  the 
eastern  section,  extending  from  Piazza  del  Duomo  to 
the  sole  eastern  gate,  Porta  Venezia.  As  I  followed 
it  eastward,  it  soon  opened  on  the  left  into  the  vast 
Mercato  Nuovo,  whose  tree-lined,  sunny  quadrangle, 
then  deserted,  is  regularly  crowded  by  the  stalls  of 
produce  and  herds  of  animals.  Another  block  to  the 
east  opened  the  Mercato  dei  Grani,  just  within  the 
gate,  in  whose  centre  loomed  Brescia's  modern  monu- 
ment to  her  great  son  of  long  ago,  —  Arnold  the  Free- 
thinker. Upon  a  handsome,  two-storied  pedestal  of 
stone,  faced  with  four  remarkable  bronze  tablets, 
showing  dramatic  scenes  from  the  friar's  life  in  high- 
relief,  —  rose  his  heroic  bronze  figure  in  the  attitude 
of  preaching.  To  the  left  of  it  was  a  tiny  park,  upon 
the  embankment  of  the  old  city  wall,  from  which  were 
visible  the  picturesque  green  hillsides  stretching  to 
north  and  east  from  their  adjacent  angle,  covered 
richly  with  vineyards  and  lines  of  cypresses,  dotted 


BRESCIA  LA  FERREA  469 

with  glistening  villas  in  hues  of  pink,  brown,  white, 
and  yellow.  Outside  the  gate,  an  avenue  of  splendid 
horse-chestnut  trees  extended  straightaway  to  the  tar 
southeast,  its  hard  white  road  lined  on  one  side  by  a 
steam  tramway,  — the  highway  to  Verona,  the  famous, 
ancient  Via  Subalpina. 

Turning  back  along  the  Corso  Magenta  for  a  way, 
and  then  southward  along  the  Via  Arsenate,  which 
runs  from  Piazza  del  Museo,  I  reached  the  Piazza 
Moretto  in  the  southeastern  corner  of  the  city, — 
so  called  from  the  modern  bronze  monument  t<>  the 
master  in  its  centre.  It  is  a  striking  work:  at  the  fool 
of  a  high  white-granite  pedestal  sits  the  bronze  female 
figure  of  Fame,  reading  her  book,  and  on  the  top  stands 
Moretto,  in  cinqueeeido  long-ho.se,  doublet,  cloak,  and 
velvet  cap,  — a  handsome  figure,  of  heroic  size,  with 
palette  in  one  hand  and  brush  in  the  other.  It  has  a  lit 
location:  for  directly  behind  stands  the  Large  Palazzo 
Martinengo,  containing  the  city's  picture-gallery  of 
the  same  name;  the  palace  was  devised  tor  that  pur- 
pose by  the  Count's  will  in  1887,  —  a  noble  life  ending 
with  a  noble  deed.1  On  the  piazza's  south  -i<l<-  rises 
the  Church  of  S.  Afra,  facing  westward  upon  t  he  streel 
with  a  front  of  ugly  stucco. 

S.  Afra  is  renowned  in  Brescia  for  its  curious  con- 
struction—  a  later  church  upon  an  early  one  and 
for  its  paintings  of  the  Venetian  school.  A  double 
flight  of  steps  ascends  some  eighl   feet    to  the  portal. 

1  "Moretto,"  says  Countess  Evelyn  Martinet       i  ».  in  her  I 

bard  8tudiea,  "  i\\A  ,i  great  deal  of  work  For  different  members  "f  i  he  family, 
ami  decorated  several  "f  th«ir  bou  i       I    ■     I'  \l   ■         .     drIU 

Fabbrica  [also  at  Brescia]  contains  fn  !  fair 

daughters  of  a  Count  Martinengo  witb  tln-ir  favorite  d  I 

coes,  covering  the  four  sides  of  one  large  r-»im.  ur<-  beautiful  beyond  words; 
tln-ir  backgrounds  filled  with  exquisite  lai  "f  flowered  part 

and  castled  hills,  before  which  sit  the  lovelj  a  marble  pai 

draped  with  Oriental  rag 


470  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

under  whoso  landing  a  barred  window  permits  one 
a  sight  of  the  dusky,  columned,  lower  edifice,  like  a 
cellar.  It  is  over  a  thousand  years  old;  the  upper  edi- 
fice was  built  in  1580,  and  I  found  it,  therefore,  of  fair 
Renaissance  lines,  the  nave  bordered  by  Renaissance 
pillars  and  arches,  which  divided  off  the  aisles.  But 
the  immediate  impression  came  from  the  vast  crowd 
of  frescoes  that  glistened  from  the  sides  of  the  pil- 
lars, the  sides  and  soffits  of  the  arches,  the  wall  spaces, 
and  the  ceiling,  —  innumerable  designs  of  arabesques, 
intertwined  with  musical  instruments,  and  pink  putti 
scrambling  up  and  down  the  pillars,  also  interspersed 
with  figured  scenes  in  panels;  the  colors,  though  much 
faded,  still  showing  a  hundred  gay  tints,  that  fairly 
showered  down  from  every  side. 

Over  the  second  altar  to  the  left,  affixed  to  the  wall 
of  the  aisle,  glowed  one  of  Paolo  Veronese's  rich  com- 
binations of  color,  —  a  Martyrdom  of  S.  Afra:  upon  a 
platform  amidst  an  eager  crowd  of  people,  backed  by 
classic  buildings,  kneeled  the  saint  in  an  incongruous 
ball-dress  of  wThite  satin,  heavily  embroidered,  —  a 
lovely  form,  with  uplifted,  rapt  expression  on  the  vir- 
ginal face,  which  strongly  contrasted  with  the  dark, 
rough  executioner  who  seized  her.  Behind  the  high- 
altar  hung  a  most  extraordinary  Tintoretto,  of  glisten- 
ing blue  tone  and  flooded  light  from  an  open  sky, 
in  which  Christ  was  ascending  between  Moses  and 
Elijah,  borne  upwards  by  fluttering  putti,  —  while  the 
three  apostles  were  visible  below  on  the  mountain- 
top,  amazed  and  fearful;  the  garments  were  bright- 
hued,  and  between  the  two  groups  rolled  the  light-blue 
clouds,  shot  with  glittering  sunrays.  Who  would  have 
dreamt  that  this  could  have  been  painted  by  the  som- 
bre master  of  darkness  and  shadow,  who  composed 
the  dusky  canvases  of  the  Scuola  S.  Rocco,  who  filled 


BRESCIA  LA  FERREA  471 

all  Venice  with  his  gloomy,  tragic  pictures,  —  who 
was  the  apostle  of  uncolored  realism  and  the  drama, 
opposed  to  the  beauty  of  gay  hues.  This  very  paint- 
ing of  his  own  hands  gainsays  his  creed:  in  spite  of  its 
flood  of  light  and  bright  colors,  it  is  dramatic,  power- 
ful, impressive;  while  its  loveliness  strikes  a  chord  of 
heavenly  music. 

Over  the  south  doorway,  finally,  hung  Titian's 
splendid  picture  of  the  Woman  taken  in  Adultery, — 
in  half-figures,  as  so  often  with  his  designs;  that  of  the 
Saviour  being  a  great  conception,  full  of  beauty,  mild- 
ness, and  stern  majesty  commingled,  a  celestial  power 
shining  in  his  radiant  face  as  He  reproves  the  evil 
elders  crowding  round;  the  woman  herself  is  very  fair 
and  penitent;  there  is  a  depth  to  the  golden  tone,  the 
sumptuous  coloring,  and  the  atmosphere,  that  fills 
the  scene  with  awe. — A  sobbing  startled  meas  1  gazed, 
—  a  miserable,  tearful  sobbing,  from  a  rent  heart.  I 
looked  around,  and  in  the  shadows  of  the  adjacent 
altar  recess  beheld  dimly  two  aged  peasant  women, 
kneeling  to  a  mummified  corpse  exposed  behind  a  glass 
front;  to  this  alleged  relic  of  some  sainl  they  were 
mumbling  beseeching  prayers  with  outstretched 
hands,  while  tears  fell  down  the  furrowed  cheeks  and 
choked  their  utterance.  Some  deep  disaster  threat- 
ened them, —  the  note  of  ii  was  in  their  cries.    The 

solace  of  the  Roman  Church  to  such  poor  wuls  struck 
me  with  a  new  force;  ignoranl  beyond  our  conception, 
correspondingly  credulous,  they  would  draw  from  the 
supposed  powers  of  thai  body  a  eonif orl  that  no  spirit- 
ual communion  could  give  them,  and  go  homeward 
with  a  new  peace  and  hope. 

Westward  from  the  Piazza  MorettotheVia  Mon  tto 
extends  aero*     the  city,  parallel  with  c.»rs<>  Zanar- 

delli,   on    its  SOUth.     Leaving  my  examination  ,,f    the 


47  J  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

massed  treasures  of  the  Galleria  Martinengo  until  I 
should  have  seen  all  the  scattered  paintings  of  the 
churches,  I  followed  this  street,  so  pleasantly  named, 
to  the  Church  of  S.  Alessandro  at  the  next  corner.  It 
has  a  plain,  stuccoed  front,  of  Renaissance  details  in 
pilasters  and  cornice,  a  basilica-interior,  with  arched, 
ribbed  ceiling  painted  yellow,  and  four  altars  recessed 
in  each  wall,  separated  by  Corinthian  three-quarter 
columns  of  roseate  marble.  It  is  remarkable  for  a  fine 
specimen  of  that  rare  old  master,  Civerchio,  on  the 
second  altar  to  the  right,  —  a  Pieta  upon  wood,  some- 
what faded,  but  still  of  warm  tone  and  atmosphere, 
with  ungraceful  figures  possessing  the  artist's  peculiar 
charm  and  expressiveness.  The  Madonna  holds  her 
dead  Son,  the  Magdalen  his  feet,  and  roundabout 
stand  Saints  Paul,  Michael,  and  another,  backed  by 
the  Cross-laden  hill  of  Calvary.  Hare  claims  this  to 
be  an  Umbrian  work.  But  the  preclelle  are  unmistak- 
ably Civerchio's,  showing  scenes  from  the  Passion  and 
the  Resurrection  which  are  of  high  finish  and  strongly 
spaced,  effective  grouping,  with  wide  landscapes  of 
excellent  perspective,  and  delightful,  warm  coloring. 

Adjacent,  first  on  the  right,  I  observed  another 
pleasing  quattrocento  work,  a  beautiful  Annunciation 
by  Frate  Michelangiolo  da  Piacenza,  in  an  exquisite 
Gothic  frame;  the  minute  and  loving  care  of  the  min- 
iaturist was  visible  in  the  fine  texture,  pattern,  and 
embroidery  of  the  robes  of  cloth-of-gold.  Five  still 
earlier  pictures,  by  another  hand,  covered  the  predelle, 
—  very  charming  scenes,  from  the  life  of  the  Virgin, 
of  distinguished  ability  for  the  period.  Fourth  on  the 
same  side  was  a  strong  pala  by  Gambara,  of  the  man- 
acled Christ  crowned  with  thorns,  with  a  bended  head 
of  noble,  harrowing  expression;  and  under  it  was  a 
very  graceful  little  marble  Pieta,  in  relief,  endowed 


BRESCIA  LA  FERREA  4 

with  much  sentiment,  by  an  unknown  artist  of  the 

same  period. 

Two  blocks  to  the  north  of  this  and  half  a  block  to 
the  east,  I  found  the  Palazzo  Tosio,  —  another  aoble 
mansion  devised  some  time  ago  to  the  city,  with  its 
comprehensive  collections  of  art.  but  now  of  compar- 
atively little  interest  on  account  of  the  removal  of  its 
Old  Masters  to  the  Galleria  Martinengo.  The  marbles 
of  first  rank  were  also  transferred.  I  was  shown  over  a 
large  suite  of  rooms  on  the  piano  nobile,  handsomely 
decorated  in  Late-Renaissance  styles, containing  mod- 
ern paintings  and  sculptures;  among  those  ornamented 
in  white-and-gold  were  a  curious  hall  at  the  west  end, 
lighted  only  from  a  sky-light,  adorned  with  white 
Doric  columns,  having  its  walls  entirely  covered  with 
little  landscapes, — some  of  them  very  good;  and  an 
oval  chamber  near  by,  very  tasteful  and  pretty,  con- 
taining two  large,  bine  Sevres  vases,  edged  with  gold, 
which  were  given  by  Napoleon  III  to  Counl  Tosio; 
these  were  unusually  interesting,  because  painted  on 
their  sides  with  excellenl  likenesses  of  the  Emperor 
and  his  lovely  young  bride,  Eugenie. 

Opposite  this  palace,  at  number  1!),  I  had  through 
an  open  gateway  a  delicious  vision  of  the  long-gone 
past :  flown  a  luxuriaul  green  vista  of  shrubs  and  1 
and  over  a  high  brick  wall,  1  >;iw  ;i  beautiful  "Id 
Gothic  colonnade,  with  one  of  its  arches  crowned  by  a 
marble  goddess;  and  there,  above  the  shady  greenery 
of  the  garden,  two  persons  were  walkin  gray- 
haired  tutor  and  handsome  youth,  arguing  ^>m<-  re- 
condite point,  looking  as  if  they  bad  stepped  from  a 
page  of  Boccaccio. 

In  vi>it  ing  the  wesl  Bide  of  the  city  I  divided  it  Into 
two  parts,  —the  first  south  of  Corso  Palestra,  con 
taining  three  importa.nl  churches  do         [ether,  the 


171  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

second  north  of  the  Corso,  containing  palaces  of  in- 
terest as  well  as  churches.  The  latter  walk  I  took  first, 
starting  from  the  Corso  up  Via  Dolzani,  the  continua- 
tion of  Corso  Vittorio  Emanuele.  Here  I  came  im- 
mediately to  Palazzo  Masperi,  another  former  resi- 
dence of  the  Martinengo  family,  celebrated  as  the 
most  striking  private  palace  in  Brescia.  It  is  a  nar- 
row, three-storied  Renaissance  structure,  covered  with 
exuberant  decoration  like  an  edifice  of  fairyland, — 
sculptured  door-jambs  and  cornices,  beautiful  triple 
windows,  side  windows  with  baroque  cornices,  a  richly 
carved  balcony,  an  elaborate  string-course,  and  above 
all,  a  wonderful  sculptured  frieze,  of  arabesques  with 
gamboling  amorini. 

A  little  to  the  west,  in  the  adjacent  Via  del  Palazzo 
Vecchio,  I  passed  another  famous  old  Brescian  man- 
sion, the  Palazzo  Calzavellio,  —  its  vast  stuccoed 
facade  containing  a  splendid  Renaissance  doorway, 
in  a  frame  of  fluted  Corinthian  pilasters,  with  a  hand- 
some double-window  above  it,  heavy  marble  balconies, 
and  faint  traces  of  extensive  frescoes  that  once  cov- 
ered the  wide  spaces  between  the  windows.  Such  a 
construction  was  designed  for  the  frescoes,  —  with  a 
broad  painted  frieze  above  them.  Close  by  on  the 
opposite  side  was  a  fine  example  of  the  modernized 
Renaissance  palace,  with  rebuilt,  imposing  portal  and 
corniced  windows;  and  at  the  angle  of  the  next  street- 
crossing,  loomed  another  huge,  stuccoed  palazzo,  with 
a  Renaissance  balcony  of  enormous  dimensions.  It  is 
an  unceasing  wonder,  what  a  modern,  small  family 
can  do  with  these  giant  residences;  in  large  part,  as  a 
fact,  they  showed  evidences  of  being  deserted. 

Northwrard  up  the  Via  della  Pace  from  this  corner, 
past  a  gigantic,  brick  church-f  agade  with  a  great  stone 
portal,  and  another  vast  palace,  of  rococo  design,  I 


BRESCIA  LA  FERREA  475 

reached,  at  the  angle  with  the  Corso  Garibaldi,  the 
strange  stone  tower  called  the  Torre  della  Pallata, 
which  is  visible  from  all  over  the  city.  It  i.  square  in 
shape,  about  fifty  feet  thick,  built  of  heavy  stone 
blocks,  with  buttresses  at  the  corners  and  gianl  bat- 
tlements  on  the  lofty  summit, —  as  curious  a  relic  of 
medieval  days  as  could  be  found  anywhere.  Sunn- of 
the  blocks  in  the  spreading  base  measure  four  feet  by 
two;  the  west  side  of  it  is  decorated  with  a  large 
ornamental  fountain  of  baroque  .style  sporting  a 
Triton  blowing  twin  trumpets,  some  reclining  <li\  un- 
ties, and  a  Goddess  of  Plenty  seated  at  the  top. 

The  broad  thoroughfare  of  Corso  Garibaldi  evenly 
bisects  the  western  part  of  the  city,  running  from 
Piazza  del  Comune  to  the  only  western  gate,  in  tin- 
centre  of  the  western  wall,  —  Porta  Milano;  tin-  Torre 
della  Pallata  stands  just  halfway  between  those  ex- 
tremities.   Proceeding  westward  now  upon  the  Cor-... 

—  which  is  quite  modern  in  appearance  and  business, 

—  and  passing  a  fine  Palladian  stone  palace  upon  the 
right,  containing  a  grand,  columned  loggia  of  two  sto- 
ries,—  I  came  eventually  to  a  wide  piazza  before  the 
Porta  Milano,  having  an  old  bastion  of  the  city  wall 
upon  the  south.  The  presenl  gate  consisted  of  two 
square  low  buildings  with  Doric  porticoes,  guarding 
the  street  where  it  crossed,  by  a  modern  bridge,  the 
medieval  fosse.  In  the  piazza  rose  an  equestrian 
bronze  statue  of  the  Liberator,  with  a  superb  bron 
lion  at  bay  on  the  front  of  the  pedestal. 

One  block  to  the  northeast,  upon  the  Yi;.  S.  RocCO, 

which  parallels  Corso  Garibaldi,  I  found  the  interest- 
ing Church  of  s.  Maria  .Idle  Grazie.  [n  its  plain 
stuccoed  facade  then-  was  an  earlier  Gothic  portal, 
with  almost,  indistinguishable,  antique   lion.,  and   a 

quattromitn    relief    of    Madonna    and    SainU    in    the 


476  PLAIN-TOWNS   OF   ITALY 

lunette.  Entering  by  another  doorway  at  the  left, 
I  stood,  to  my  surprise,  in  a  delightful  Early-Renais- 
sance cloister,  at  the  side  of  the  church,  consisting  of 
two  little  paved  courts,  divided  and  surrounded  by 
colonnades.  A  door  in  its  left  corridor  opened  into  a 
modern  pilgrimage  sanctuary;  and  the  walls  of  all  the 
corridors  were  hung  with  the  quaint  gifts  of  success- 
ful pilgrims,  mostly  rude  pictures  of  scenes  of  sickness, 
accident,  and  healing,  harrowing  in  their  effect. 

The  dark  sanctuary,  gleaming  faintly  with  burning 
lamps  swung  from  chains,  consisted  of  a  three-sided 
gallery  inclosing  a  lower  shrine,  which  contained  the 
altar  with  the  saintly  relics;  alternate  pillars  and  col- 
umns, fluted  and  spiral,  with  inset  colored  marbles, 
sustained  the  rounded  arches  of  the  gallery;  under 
the  latter  hung  the  lamps,  diffusing  a  deep  golden 
glamour  upon  the  successive  frescoes  of  the  outer  wall. 
These,  though  modern,  were  designed  and  softly  tinted 
in  trecento  style,  with  gilded  figures  outlined  against 
dusky  backgrounds.  The  gilding  and  coloring,  the 
richly  veined  marble  on  every  side,  the  incense-laden 
dusk,  the  golden  lamplight,  all  combined  to  produce 
that  exotic,  Oriental  effect,  which  appeals  so  strongly 
to  the  sensuous  nature  of  the  Italians,  and  instantly 
strikes  the  chords  of  their  religious  emotions.  The 
priests  could  devise  no  more  successful  means  for 
impressing  the  credulous  devotees,  and  drawing  the 
silver  from  their  pockets. 

A  side-doorway  from  the  cloister  admitted  me  to  the 
church,  which  was  as  dark  and  curious  as  the  sanctuary; 
the  low-arched  nave  was  flanked  by  columns,  and  still 
lower  aisles,  having  a  flat  dome  above  each  bay  of  the 
latter,  and  altars  affixed  directly  to  the  walls;  and  over 
every  foot  of  surface  rioted  an  awful  scheme  of  stucco 
reliefs,  twisting  over  the  vaulting,  walls,  arches,  and 


BRESCIA   LA   FERREA  477 

domes,  —  forced  upon  the  attention  by  a  barbaric  gild- 
ing. The  vulgar  effect  was  enhanced  by  the  plaster 
material  of  the  arches  and  capitals,  the  common 
black  cloths  draped  around  the  columns  and  hang- 
ing between  them,  edged  with  tinsel  gilt  fringe,  and 
the  horrible  scroll-like  shields  of  arms  attached  to  the 
cloths,  painted  in  gaudy  gold  and  silver.  Much  a-  L 
had  seen  of  this  vile  sort  of  "decoration,"  this  before 
me  was  the  worst  yet  found.  I  gladly  turned  away  to 
the  pictures. 

The  best  of  them  were  a  Foppa,  of  Madonna  and 
Saints,  on  the  first  altar  to  the  left,  —  faded,  dark 
and  colorless;  and  two  Morettos,  over  the  high  altar 
and  in  the  chapel  to  the  right  of  it.  The  first  of  the 
latter,  a  Nativity,  it  was  very  difficult  to  observe;  it 
seemed  to  be  different  from  the  master's  usual  style, 
with  many  figures  in  confused  activity;  the  second 
was  most  attractive,  —  a  Madonna  in  glory,  with 
saints  below,  in  a  strange,  rich,  dark  tone,  from  which 
the  three  saints  stood  forth  bathed  in  a  silvery  light, 
splendidly  portrayed,  with  a  fine  combination  of  vivid 
realism,  graceful  dignity,  and  restful  peace. 

Continuing  eastward  along  Via  S.  Rocco,  1  passed 
on  the  left  a  palace  with  clear  remain-  of  einqueeenio 
frescoes,  in  many  large  panels,  having  figures  of  the 
customary  reddish-brown  tint;  and  finally  reached, 
just  to  the  right  in  a  side  way,  the  renowned  old 
Church  of  S.  Giovanni  Evangelist*.  It-  facad< 
rough  brickwork  held  a  Bimple  Renaissance  Btone 
portal;  its  dusky  interior  consisted  of  a  nave  and  aisles, 
—  separated  by  piers  faced  with  Corinthian  half- 
columns,  upholding  a  plain  cornice,  with  connecting 
round  arches,  and  a  large  choir  Banked  by  chapels. 
The  side  chapels  held  some  remarkable  paintii 
a  very  beautiful  Francia,-    the  Trinity  adored  by 


ITS  PLAIN-TOWNS   OF   ITALY 

angels,  first  to  the  left,  considered  one  of  his  few  best 
works;  a  Wedding  of  the  Virgin  by  Romanino,  fourth 
on  the  left ;  and  Moretto's  animated  Massacre  of  the 
Innocents,  third  on  the  right,  which  is  a  harmony  of 
golden  browns  and  light  blues,  in  his  "silvery"  tone. 
There  was  a  second  fine  Moretto,  in  a  magnificent 
Renaissance  frame  behind  the  high-altar,  —  repre- 
senting God  the  Father,  the  Madonna  in  clouds  sur- 
rounded by  putti,  and  four  saints  below  in  a  sunset 
after-glow,  —  altogether  of  a  dark  tone  and  yet  lumin- 
ous beauty;  and  finally,  there  were  the  treasures  of 
the  wonderful  Cappella  Corpus  Domini,  at  the  end 
of  the  left  aisle,  —  a  precious  shrine  of  Brescian  art, 
painted  by  Moretto  and  Romanino  together. 

Here  was  Civerchio's  great  Entombment,  in  a  most 
exquisitely  carved  and  gilded  Renaissance  frame  over 
the  altar,  revealing  at  a  glance  the  profound  genius  of 
that  master,  —  noble  in  conception,  execution,  action, 
lifelikeness,  and  tender  emotion.  The  Maries  and  the 
Apostles  are  letting  down  the  dead  Saviour  into  the 
sepulchre,  slowly,  gently,  with  heart-rending  grief.  — 
On  the  right  wall  are  five  powerful  Morettos:  Elijah 
in  a  dark  and  terrible  wilderness,  with  an  attending 
angel  of  superhuman  loveliness;  the  Israelites  collect- 
ing manna;  portrait  figures  of  St.  Mark  and  St.  Luke; 
and  one  of  the  grandest  Last  Suppers  in  existence, 
superb  in  natural  modeling,  atmosphere,  and  tense 
dramatic  expression,  —  wanting  only  in  the  weakness 
of  the  Christ.  The  sternness  of  these  early  works  is 
said  to  be  due  to  Romanino's  influence.  Over  them, 
on  the  soffits  of  the  side  arch,  Moretto  also  painted 
six  prophets. 

The  rest  are  Romanino's  works:  five  correspond- 
ing pictures  on  the  opposite  wall,  six  prophets  above 
them,  and  a  beautiful   Coronation  of  the  Virgin  in 


BRESCIA  LA  FERREA  479 

the  lunette  over  the  altar,  which  is  strongly  com- 
posed and  drawn,  with  much  majesty,  grace,  and  indi- 
vidual charm.  This  was  my  first  revelation  of  his  full 
powers.  His  side  paintings  are  Less  attractive:  a  Re- 
surrection of  Lazarus,  Mary  Magdalen  before  Christ, 
Saints  John  and  Matthew,  and  a  family  worshiping  the 
Sacrament.  But  altogether  this  little  chapel  contains 
a  glory  of  great  brush  work,  seldom  equaled  outside 
of  museums. 

There  remained  one  more  large  church  in  this  quar- 
ter, S.  Maria  del  Carmine,  a  block  and  a  half  to  the 
north;  but  my  visit  to  it  did  not  require  much  time. 
The  only  beauty  in  its  rough  brick  facade  was  a 
curious  marble  portal,  flanked  with  Renaissance  col- 
umns but  recessed  in  Gothic  fashion;  the  former 
fresco  in  its  lunette  by  Ferramola  had  disappeared. 
Its  lofty,  spacious,  bare  interior  —  of  nave  and  aisles 
separated  by  stucco  pillars,  with  Romanesque  capi- 
tals and  round  arches  —  contained  do  Longer  any 
treasure  of  art.  Foppa's  ceiling-painting  had  also 
lost  all  its  value.  Upon  the  walls  and  vaulting  were 
the  ruined  frescoes  and  the  lingering  remnants  of 
the  arabesques,  that  once  covered  them  from  end  t<> 
end;  and  at  the  termination  of  the  left  aisle  stood  a 
strange  Calvary  of  painted  plaster,  in  a  cave  dimly 

lamplit,  with  life-size,  mouthing  figures.    'The  apse  wall 

held  a  superb  Renaissance  frame,  containing  a  badly 

injured  Annunciation,  with  a  still  lovely  Madonna. 
In  all  this  ruin  and  echoing  desolation 

I  felt  like  one  "Imp  treadi  alone 

Some  banquet-bftll  deserted, 

Whose  lights  are  fled,  w  id, 

Ami  nil  but  Ik-  departed. 

As  F  strolled  back  to  the  hotel,  I  Doticed  -onie  wine- 
presses   being    operated    in    the    slreet    that     urn'    of 


480  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

modern,  mechanical  make:  a  tub  with  a  piston-cover 
thrust  downward  by  a  screw,  squeezing  the  juice  out 
of  apertures  at  the  bottom.  Placed  upon  hand-carts, 
they  were  being  hauled  from  house  to  house,  to  press 
each  family's  grapes  at  its  own  door;  and  the  liquid 
ran  over  the  sides,  along  the  gutters,  staining  them 
red,  —  like  Dickens's  Paris  of  the  Revolution.  In 
Verona  (for  it  was  now  October)  I  had  observed  the 
general  use  of  the  old-fashioned  vats,  likewise  dragged 
around  upon  carts,  writh  ragged  youths  dancing  bare- 
foot upon  the  grapes.  Chestnut  roasters  also  now  filled 
the  streets  with  their  little  charcoal  ovens,  radiating 
appetizing  odors;  and  venders  of  raw  chestnuts  and 
walnuts  spread  their  wares  in  piles,  to  dry,  on  strips 
of  canvas  along  the  curb. 

In  the  evening  I  usually  repaired  for  my  after-dinner 
coffee  to  the  caffes  under  the  arcades  across  the  way 
from  the  hotel,  which  are  frequented  by  the  Brescian 
elite,  and  enlivened  by  the  strains  of  a  large  orchestra. 
Many  of  the  company  played  cards  regularly,  with 
those  pasteboards  so  strange  to  Anglo-Saxon  eyes, 
upon  which  the  suits  are  swords,  sceptres,  dies,  etc., 
and  the  royal  ties  are  creatures  unrecognizable.  So  fond 
are  the  people  of  music,  that  on  coming  out  I  never 
failed  to  find  a  large  crowd  blocking  the  wide  street, 
listening  in  rapt  silence  to  the  orchestra  within.  Inter- 
spersed between  the  caffes  were  the  new  features  of 
North  Italian  life,  —  American  bars,  in  little  rooms 
where  the  beverages  are  taken  standing,  at  cheaper 
prices  and  without  the  necessity  of  tips;  the  drinks, 
however,  are  as  light  as  elsewhere,  being  coffee,  na- 
tive wines,  beer,  syrups,  liqueurs,  vermouth,  bitters, 
and  various  French  and  domestic  appetizers  and 
aperitifs,  of  weird  appearance  and  taste,  but  little 
strength;  only  now  and  then  is  a  glass  of  absinthe  or 


BRESCIA  LA   FERREA  481 

cognac  sold,  for  the  natives  have  no  liking  for  strong 
spirits. 

Besides  the  several  theatres  roundabout,  including 
the  opera-house,  there  were  also  half  a  dozen  cine- 
matograph shows,  at  which  I  passed   an  occasional 
evening,  and  which  were  invariably  crowded.    Such 
was  the  extent  of  the  Brescians'    dissipation.     The 
Corso  Zanardelli,  which   they  thought   very  cosmo- 
politan in  its  arc-lights  and  few  electric  illumina- 
tions, was  already  by  eleven  o'clock  nearly  deserted; 
and  before  midnight  the  whole  town  was  asleep.    It 
still  exhibits  all  the  old  provincial  peculiarities.   The 
shops,  invariably  little,  are  confined  each  to  a  sur- 
prisingly narrow  line;  if  one  wishes  to  procure  some 
pins,  he  must,  as  elsewhere,  hunt  up  the  one  place 
where  they  are  sold.    Advertising  is  unheard  of,  or 
any  effort  to  increase  trade.   The  little  newspapers!  ?), 
of  two  or  four  small  sheets,  contain  very  slighl  news 
indeed  of  the  outside  world,  and  what  there  is,  is  gen- 
erally copied  from  foreign  journals  and  several  days 
old;  their  contents  consist  mainly  of  local  happenings, 
articles  and  letters  written  by  ambitious  local  literati, 
and  poetic  effusions.    All  speeches  upon  any  occasion 
whatsoever  are  carefully  reported  in  full,  and  fulsome 
obituary  notices  are  a  specialty.     These  lasl   are  also 
posted  all  about  the  city,  —  toget  her  with  nol  ices  and 
addresses  to  the  citizens,  of  every  sort    and  subject. 
One  becomes  accustomed  to  being  startled  by  poster- 
headings  in  large  black  letters,       "Citizen*!  Atten- 
tion!"—  or "  Beware  I  Fellow  Citizens!'     Every  local 
event,  every  election,  every  patriotic  anniversary,  is 
preeeded  by  a  veritable  war  of  placards  between  tin- 
opposing  parties. 

When  Ferrer  was  shoi  al  Barcelona,  the  indignation 

of  the  Socialistic  masses  broke  out  violently  in  North 


482  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Italy;  the  people  filled  the  streets  with  noisy  groups, 
and  fierce  posters  cried  in  mourning-black:  " Lavora- 
tori!  —  In  segno  di  protesto  contro  1'  assassinio  di 
Francesco  Ferrer!  commesso  dalla  feroce  reazione  ges- 
uitica  spagnuola,  poiche  il  lutto  e  di  tutte  le  nazioni 
civili,  di  tutti  i  popoli  liberi  che  detestano  le  infamie 
del  dogma,  Noi  Vi  Invitiamo —  ad  astenervi  dal  lavoro 
nel  pomeriggio  di  quest'  oggi!  [Signed]  La  Commis- 
sione  Esecutiva  della  Camera  del  Lavoro."  ! 

And  they  did  abstain  from  labor;  the  workmen 
marched  through  the  streets  in  a  great  procession,  with 
gloomy,  defiant  brows,  shouting  hoarsely  for  liberty: 
"Down  with  the  priests!  Down  with  the  Jesuits!" 
—  while  the  police  accompanied  them  in  nervous  fear, 
dreading  every  moment  an  attack  upon  the  churches. 
It  was  another  demonstration  of  the  ever  increasing 
Socialistic  fervor  of  the  Italian  masses,  —  which  will 
end,  who  knows  where? 

Certainly  this  country  is,  in  freedom  of  the  person, 
speech,  and  press,  in  the  sacredness  of  property-rights, 
in  all  that  appertains  to  liberty,  and  popular  rule,  very 
far  advanced  over  Austria,  —  which  is  hated  the  more 
for  that  very  reason,  —  and  in  fact  over  all  the  Euro- 
pean countries  save  France,  the  Lowlands,  and  Scan- 
dinavia. Nowhere  in  the  world,  not  even  in  England, 
is  there  such  general  order,  and  absence  of  crimes  upon 
property  and  of  premeditated  violence,  as  in  the  Italy 
of  to-day.  Burglary  and  highway  robbery,  for  in- 
stance, are  now  practically  unknown.  Nowhere  in 
the  world  is  the  person  so  perfectly  safe,  —  if  we  omit 

1  "Workmen!  —  In  sign  of  protest  against  the  assassination  of  Fran- 
cesco Ferrer,  committed  by  the  ferocious  Jesuitical  reaction  of  the  Span- 
iards, since  the  grief  is  shared  by  all  the  civilized  nations,  by  all  free  peo- 
ples who  detest  the  infamy  of  dogmatism,  We  invite  You  —  to  abstain  from 
work  this  afternoon!  (Signed)  The  Executive  Committee  of  the  Chamber 
of  Labor."     . 


BRESCIA  LA  FERREA  483 

southern  Italy,  with  its  violence  proceeding  from  pas- 
sion. There  is  nothing  more  for  the  people  to  desire 
unless  it  be  a  moderation  of  the  too  heavy  taxes,  or  a 
republican  form  of  government;  but  the  House  of 
Savoy  has  been  too  great  a  benefactor,  —  the  King 
is  too  noble,  beloved,  and  thoroughly  democratic  in 
his  benevolence,  to  be  placed  on  one  Bide. 

One  morning  I  started  out  to  visit  the  trio  of  south- 
western churches,  by  taking  a  tramcai  at  the  next 
corner,  which  traversed  the  Corsos  Palestra  and  Vit- 
torio  Emanuele  to  the  station.  The  Brescian  tram- 
ways are  quite  like  those  of  the  other  smaller  cities, 
—  having  little  cars  run  by  electric  trolleys,  and  di- 
vided Jby  partitions  into  first-  ami  second-clasa  com- 
partments; the  fares  are  graduated  according  to  the 
class  and  distance,  varying  from  two  to  live  W<//V 
the  most  satisfactory  of  all  methods;  the  cars  do  not 
stop  at  every  corner,  but  at  certain  equidistant  points 
marked  by  signboards,  upon  hail;  and  the  passenger  i- 
always  furnished  with  a  ticket  upon  paying,  which  la- 
is  required  to  keep  in  sight,  and  which  not  only  identi- 
fies his  payment  but  also  the  place  at  which  he  should 
descend.  Furthermore,  the  stubs  of  the  tickets  when 
returned  to' the  company's  office  constitute  an  effect- 
ual check  upon  the  money  received  by  I  he  guards, 
and  render  stealing  impossible,  —  a  safeguard  which 
American  tramways  have  long  vainlj  sought. 

At  Via  S.  Nazzaro,  halfway  to  the  gate,  I  descended 
and  walked  a  block  to  the  west,  reaching  al  the  ad- 
jacent corner  the  huge  mass  of  SS,  Nazzaro  <•  Ceh 
It  is  rather  a  modern  church  (1780),  with  .1  classic 
stucco  facade,  adorned  by  full-length,  Corinthian 
half-columns,a  heavy  cornice,  and  ;<  gable  surmount  ■! 

*  A  tUdc  ia  practical)]  equivalent  i"  u  American  <<u\.  i  uli»h 

halfpenny. 


1st  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

by  half  a  dozen  Berniniesque  plaster  statues.  The 
interior  proved  to  be  a  spacious  Renaissance  basilica, 
with  an  atrium  separated  from  the  nave  by  four  mass- 
ive Corinthian  columns,  shallow  side  chapels  divided 
by  similar  half-columns,  and  a  slightly  elevated  choir 
of  the  same  width.  From  the  apse  wall  a  great  canvas 
by  Titian  radiated  its  refulgent  glory  over  the  whole 
edifice,  supplementing  its  pure,  cold  lines. 

The  atrium  contained  over  the  side  entrances  two 
large  works  of  Vincenzo  Foppa,  the  scourging  and 
the  beheading  of  Saints  Nazzaro  and  Celso,  of  fairly 
good  anatomy  and  expression,  but  otherwise  not  at- 
tractive; another  Foppa,  that  once  graced  the  organ 
doors,  lay  in  the  sacristy,  —  an  Annunciation,  with 
a  Madonna  of  much  sentiment.  The  Titian  is  a  panel- 
piece  of  five  sections,  in  his  wonderful  warm  tone  and 
golden  light  and  flesh-work,  of  grand  modeling  and 
lifelikeness,  and  exceeding  grace;  around  the  central 
panel,  of  the  Resurrection,  are  placed  the  separate 
figures  of  St.  George,  Messer  Averoldo  the  donor,  and 
St.  Sebastian,  —  the  latter  form  remarkable  for  its 
solidity  and  writhing  anguish  (instead  of  the  usual 
absurd  complacency) ;  —  and  above  them  is  a  lovely 
Annunciation  with  very  noble  forms. 

Besides  this  work  the  church  is  renowned  for  four 
superb  and  priceless  Morettos:  a  silvery  Coronation 
of  the  Virgin,  with  four  saints  below,  —  a  picture  of 
striking  figures,  gracefully  composed  before  a  delight- 
ful landscape,  but  not  so  inspiring  as  tableaux  of 
deeper  tone  and  color;  a  Christ  in  glory,  surrounded 
by  putti,  with  two  saints  below,  —  more  golden  in 
tone,  but  more  crowded  and  disorderly;  an  Adoration 
of  the  Child,  whose  chiaroscuro  is  so  profound  as  to 
leave  visible  only  the  shining  Babe  upon  the  ground, 
with   the  dusky,   kneeling  forms   of   the  Madonna, 


BRESCIA  LA  FERREA  485 

Saints  Nazzaro  and  Celso,  St.  Joseph,  and  several 
others,  while  a  flock  of  putti  are  dimly  outlined  behind, 
—  a  charming  scene,  full  of  reverence,  and  happy, 
stray  glints  of  light  upon  faces  and  armor;  lastly,  in 
the  sacristy,  a  smaller  Adoration  upon  wood,  -  of  the 
same  darkness,  with  the  last  gleans  of  sunset  visible 
through  a  window,  across  distant  mountains,  —  and 
another  Annunciation,  of  much  sweetness,  in  separate 
medallions  at  the  sides.  Adjacent  hangs  a  Meeting  of 
Joachim  and  Elizabeth,  in  Moretto's  style  and  color- 
ing, and  thought  by  many  critics  to  be  his  product, 
though  it  is  not  certain. 

Almost  opposite  the  fagade  rises  the  large,  preten- 
tious Palazzo  Fe,  a  very  baroque,  stucco  building  of 
the  same  epoch.  Returning  to  Corso  Vittorio  Eman- 
uele,  and  proceeding  northward,  I  came  quickly  to  the 
curious  little  Church  of  Madonna  dei  Miracoli.  Its 
rich  front  of  the  Early-Renaissance  holds  a  most  ex- 
traordinary marble  porch,  —  four  advanced  columns 
upon  a  parapet,  upholding  a  very  broad  entablature 
topped  by  a  curving  gable,  and  all  exquisitely  carved 
with  a  wealth  of  minute  traceries  astonishing  t<>  be- 
hold; similarly  carved  arc  the  faces  of  the  four  ad 
jacent  pilasters  on  the  facade  proper;  seldom  is  l  here 
to  be  found  such  a  mass  of  beautiful,  delicate  detail. 

As  the  interior  was  of  do  importance,   I   k<  pi   on 
along  the  Corso,  observing  a  fine  Late  Renaissance 
palace  on  the  opposite  side,  impressive  from  the  hea^  i 
uess  of  its  columned  window  -frames  and  cornices,  sur- 
mounted by  large  globes  and  busts ;  and  turning  to  the 
left,  I  reached  in  a  few  paces  the  great  Church  of  S. 
Francesco,  which    faces  northward    upon    the  I 
Palestra.  This  facade  is  of  the  Gothic  period,  buiH  of 
browned  .lone,  having  a  simple  portal,  the  remaii 
an  interesting, (Jot hie,  terra  -cotta  frieze,  and  a  beauti 


480  PLAIN  TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

ful  rose-window.  The  long,  low,  dark  nave  is  flanked 
by  columns  with  Doric  capitals  and  rounded  arches, 
and  by  aisles  with  chapels  on  the  left  side  only. 

There  are  four  first-class  paintings  here,  including 
two  of  transcendent  beauty:  a  Marriage  of  the  Virgin 
by  the  rare  Francesco  da  Prato,  first  altar  to  the  left, 
-  of  fine  golden  tone  and  interior  atmosphere,  and  a 
Virgin  with  all  the  loveliness  and  bashful  grace  which 
a  bride  should  have;  a  detached  fresco  of  the  school  of 
Giotto,  under  glass,  second  on  the  right,  —  a  Pietd,  of 
very  deepest  feeling,  wonderful  for  its  age;  Moretto's 
renowned  group  of  Saints  Margaret,  Jerome,  and  Fran- 
cis, standing  in  a  portico  with  two  putti  hovering  over- 
head,—  a  scene  of  celestial  peace  and  beauty;  and 
Romanino's  sublime  masterpiece  of  the  Madonna  and 
Saints,  blazing  from  its  magnificent  carved  frame  be- 
hind the  high-altar  like  a  vision  of  heavenly  glory. 
The  lovely,  throned  Madonna,  exquisitely  moulded 
and  poised,  clad  in  a  lustrous  crimson  robe,  is  holding 
to  her  breast  the  Holy  Child,  while  charming  putti 
flutter  above;  the  Franciscan  saints  below  are  well- 
balanced,  nobly  drawn,  and  gracefully  expressive,  in 
the  same  gorgeous  coloring;  while  the  whole  composi- 
tion is  backed  by  a  sky  of  seductive  blueness.  A  richer 
glory  of  hues  could  not  be  found  in  all  the  Italian 
schools.  It  is  "the  most  celebrated  and  most  Palm- 
esque  work  of  Romanino  —  grand  in  contrast  of  cowl 
and  frock  —  but  still  more  grand  in  contrast  of  look 
and  expression."  * 

I  had  now  wandered  long  enough  through  city 
streets,  and  longed  for  a  breath  of  the  green  nature 
ever  visible  on  the  castle  hill.  The  direct  ascent  leads 
up  from  the  little  Piazza  Tito  Speri;  the  gradual  one, 
taken  by  the  tramway,  makes  a  three-quarter  circle 

1  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle. 


BRESCIA  LA  FERREA  4S7 

beginning  at  the  northwest  corner.  But  I  first  fol- 
lowed a  pleasant  walk  along  the  eastern  Hank,  starting 
from  the  converted  Church  of  S.  Giulia,  and  passing 
immediately  the  very  old,  little  edifice  of  S.  Cristo, 
perched  to  the  left  at  the  top  of  a  long,  walled  incline. 
I  stopped  to  examine  its  curious  facade,  constructed 
half  of  white  Roman  blocks,  upon  some  of  which  ro- 
settes and  other  carvings  could  still  be  seen,  and  half 
of  stucco,  and  containing  a  Gothic  rose-window,  also  a 
Gothic  frieze  of  terra-cotta  plaques,  glazed  ami  col- 
ored; the  interesting  early  portal,  framed  by  marble 
pillars  strangely  cut  with  ancient  reliefs  of  putti, 
shields,  vases,  etc.,  had  a  lintel  of  a  single,  now  broken, 
stone,  relieved  with  winged  putti-heads,  horns  of  plenty, 
and  a  half-figure  of  Christ, —  the  Pagan  and  Christian 
carvings  thus  being  intermingled;  while  the  Lunette 
held  an  early  fresco  of  two  prettily  tinted  angels. 

The  Via  Gambara  thence  led  me  northward  along 
the  slope,  gradually  rising,  between  green  gardens 
high  upon  the  left  and  a  charming  little  valley  below 
on  the  right,  until  I  reached  a  small  park  al  the  north- 
east shoulder  of  the  hill,  and  at  the  angle  of  the  city 
wall.  This  wall  ascended  the  valley,  turned  here,  and 
bore  away  westward  along  the  top  of  the  northern  pre- 
cipice of  the  hill,  amalgamating  finally  with  the  castle 
wall,  frowning  with  towers.  The  paths  of  the  little 
park  climbed  upon  the  embankment  al  its  angle,  and 
yielded  pleasanl  views  on  every  side;  there  were  the 
beautiful  neighboring  bill-slopes  again,  cypress-  and 
villa-crowned,  the  luxurianl  plain,  stretching  south- 
east into  the  haze  of  distance,  and  the  northern  valley, 
once  so  fair,  now  belching  smoke  from  a  icore  <-f  tall 
chimneys,  whose  broad  factories  sparkled  with  hun- 
dreds of  w  in' lows. 

But  in  them  were  the  wealth  and  happiness  "f  the 


488  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Brescia  of  to-day, — a  more  joyful  sight  to  the  native 
than  all  the  landscapes  of  Eden.  Into  such  manufac- 
turing has  gone  all  the  best  and  bluest  blood  of  north- 
ern Italy,  the  nobles  turning  their  hands  and  old  for- 
tunes to  a  commerce  no  longer  debasing,  since  it  is  the 
sole  means  of  regenerating  their  country;  and  in  con- 
sequence they  are  rebuilding  the  cities,  and  reaping  for 
themselves  new  fortunes  of  a  surprising  size.  Hence 
comes  that  unending  stream  of  automobiles  that  cov- 
ers the  plain  and  assails  the  Alps  in  summer,  to  the 
wonder  of  tourists,  who  know  not  that  these  modern 
Lombards  have  made  incomes  of  a  hundred  thousand 
to  five  hundred  thousand  francs  per  year. 

Luigi  Villari  has  well  expressed  this  change:  "The 
Lombard  nobility  is  the  most  progressive  section  of 
the  Italian  upper  classes,  and  the  richest.  It  is  of 
burgher  origin,  and  .  .  .  has  taken  the  lead  in  the  new 
industrial  and  commercial  movement.  .  .  .  Many  of 
the  oldest  names  in  the  country  are  now  connected 
with  silk  factories,  engineering  works,  and  banks. 
They  are  active,  public-spirited,  and  exercise  some 
political  influence."  And  again:  "A  new  type  of  late 
years  has  risen  into  prominence  in  Italian  society,  — 
the  man  of  business.  The  old  Italian  commercial 
spirit  has  revived  once  more.  —  The  typical  uomo  d'  af- 
fari  is  generally  a  Piedmontese  or  a  Lombard.  He  is  a 
shrewd,  intelligent  person,  educated  perhaps  in  a  Swiss 
or  a  German  commercial  college,  speaking  several 
languages,  and  ready  on  the  spot  whenever  he  sees  a 
market  for  his  wares."1 

Close  by  this  corner  stood  the  lonely  church  and 
monastery  buildings  of  S.  Pietro,  surrounded  by  trees. 
The  church  had  a  peculiar  facade  of  stucco,  painted  in 
imitation  of  an  elaborate,  stone,  architectural  design, 

1  Luigi  Villari,  Italian  Life  in  Town  and  Country. 


BRESCIA  LA   FERREA  489 

in  which  the  real  doorway  and  windows  were  given 
fanciful  deep  frames.  The  monastery  wall  contained 
a  marble  portal  very  prettily  sculptured.  I  knocked 
at  this,  and  was  admitted  by  a  lay  porter  to  two  con- 
nected Renaissance  cloisters,  the  first  containing  a 
charming  marble  well-top.  Of  all  the  Olivetans  that 
had  walked  and  prayed  here  for  centuries,  but  three 
or  four  now  remained.  Turning  into  the  church,  I 
found  a  handsome  well-proportioned  interior  of  gray 
sandstone,  erected  by  Sansovino,  —  with  niches  for 
the  side  altars,  divided  by  Corinthian  pilasters  inset 
with  imitation  vcrdc-antique  medallions;  while  some 
frescoes  by  Zoppo  adorned  the  upper  walls. 

After  this  walk  1  visited  the  Galleria  Mart  inengo. 
Around  its  courtyard  lie  a  number  of  ground-floor 
rooms,  not  shown  unless  demanded,  containing  the 
sculptures  and  casts  from  Palazzo Tosio;  among  I  hem, 
Thorvaldsen's  two  very  lovely  plaques  of  Night  and 
Day,  Ferrari's  powerful  group  alter  the  Laoco5n,  Bar 
ruzzi's  exquisite  Silvia,  seated  upon  the  ground  tying 
her  hair,  Pampaloni's  wonderful  little  praying  girl,  — 
childish,  upturned,  sincere  and  trustful,  that  has  been 
so  endlessly  copied,  —  ami  some  very  pleasing  plaster 
compositions  by  recent  Lombard  sculptors.  Mount- 
ing the  grand  staircase,  I  came  to  the  entrance  ball  of 
the  picture   gallery,    hung  with    the  earlier   Brocian 

works;  chief  amongst  them,  Poppa's  Lasl  Supper, — 
with  the  aposl  les,  lor  once,  proper!;,  seated  around  t he 

table,  —  and  bis  hind  te  of  Madonna  and  <  hild. 

Then  I  entered  the  main  room,  upon  the  north  side, 

to  be  confronted  at  once  by  the  masterpieces  of  the 

school,  —  a  room  hung  solidly  with  great  cm\. 
wondrous  glow  and   coloring.     Moretto'fl    WOtlu  here 

are  the  grandesl  of  his  production,      including  the 

celebrated  St.  Nicholas  presenting  children   i<>  the 


490  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Madonna,  the  Madonna  with  two  infants  in  glory  and 
four  saints  below,  the  Descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  the 
Adoration  of  the  Child,  the  Christ  at  Emmaus,  and 
the  St.  Anthony  enthroned;  —  all  pictures  of  ideal 
pietist ic  loveliness  and  expression.  They  are  almost 
entirely  in  his  "silvery  tone,"  illumined  with  soft  and 
richly  gleaming  hues;  and  the  handsome  figures,  per- 
fectly lifelike  and  gracefully  posed,  exhibit  a  full, 
warm,  rounded  flesh- work  which  adds  exceedingly  to 
the  beauties  of  expression. 

This  appeared  also  a  main  characteristic  of  the  Ro- 
maninos  present,  which  were  otherwise  much  varied, 
—  according  to  his  custom.  Some  were  detached 
frescoes,  with  figures  too  large  for  such  a  room,  — 
including  a  Christ  at  Emmaus  with  a  very  noble  head. 
Among  his  canvases  were  a  Pieta,  an  Adoration  of  the 
Child,  —  both  very  dark,  —  a  Coronation  of  the  Vir- 
gin, of  heroic  size  and  very  impressive,  a  weird  Christ 
bearing  the  Cross,  clad  in  a  white  satin  robe,  and  an 
injured  group  of  St.  Paul  with  four  other  saints. 

A  few  other  schools  were  represented,  by  several 
striking  works:  a  miniature  procession  on  wood  by 
Mantegna,  of  extraordinary  tinting,  a  wonderful 
panel  of  the  Madonna  and  two  infants  by  Francia, 
a  damaged  Madonna  by  the  same,  two  of  Moroni's 
superb  portraits,  a  lovely  angel's  head  by  Timoteo 
Viti  (?),  a  magnificent  Adoration  of  the  Child  by 
Lorenzo  Lotto,  gorgeously  colored  and  finished,  an 
interesting  Bearing  of  the  Cross  by  the  rare  Marco 
Palmesano  da  Forli,  an  Ecce  Homo  by  Gian  Bellini, 
and  finally,  a  marvelous  little  work  of  Raphael's, 
representing  the  half-figure  of  Christ,  showing  at  a 
glance  how  far  he  surpassed  all  others  in  lifelike 
moulding,  golden  fleshwork,  and  nameless  grace. 

In  the  adjacent  third  room  there  were  a  few  more 


BRESCIA.     THE  CRO  NIK  MIMCI'M  ill 

CHRI8TIA2      \i:  i 


BRESCIA  LA  FERREA  191 

exceptional  works,  among  a  large  number  of  average 
merit:  a  Christ  healing  a  blind  man,  by  Barbieri,  ;i 
splendid  triptych  by  Civerchio,  —  in  which  winged 
putti  were  crowning  S.  Nicolo,  with  vivacious  joy, — 
and  one  of  Savoldo's  exquisitely  beautiful  composi- 
tions, an  Adoration,  in  the  stable  at  night-time,  with 
a  remarkable  bluish  moonlight  effect  seen  through  the 
open  window,  silvering  the  distant  streams  and  moun- 
tains. The  fourth  room  proved  of  little  account ;  like- 
wise the  series  of  chambers  on  the  other  side,  devoted 
to  engravings,  drawings,  etc. 

That  afternoon  I  climbed  the  castle  hill,  by  the  steep 
footpath  from  Piazza  Tito  Speri  at  its  southwest  angle. 
To  the  right,  then  to  the  left  through  a  tunnel  under 
houses,  and  up  a  long  flight  of  steps,  —  I  reached  the 
first  circling  roadway  of  the  park;  straight  ahead  still, 
over  graveled  paths,  now  ascending  through  the  young 
wood,  now  turning,  twisting,  mounting  Bteps  at  inter- 
vals, and  winding  again,  —  at  last  I  emerged  apoD  the 
southwestern  corner  of  the  summit,  which  proved  t<> 
be  surprisingly  broad.  There  was  room  without  tin- 
great  quadrilateral  of  the  fortress  for  a  wide  shady 
parkway  and  a  stretch  of  turf;  the  old  gray  walls  of 
broken  stone  rose  stout  and  high  behind  their  moat, 
looked  over  by  varied  buildings  from  the  still  higher 
ground  within.  To  the  east  appeared  the  citadel 
proper,  a  ruined  stone  castle  of  shattered  towers, 
perched  upon  the  loftiest  point,  inclosing  the  . 
bled,  barnlike  structure  which  tin-  Austrian*  had 
remodeled  for  their  prison;  on  the  left  gleamed  »ev- 
eral  frightful  new  edifices  of  yellow  stucco,  hideous 
in  design,  betraying  by  their  "exposition  Btyle"  that 
Brescia  had  just  been  holding  here  some  hind  of 
show. 

The  view  outwardly  from  the  corner  was  most 


492  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

tensive  toward  all  but  eastern  points,  being  especially 
fine  of  the  city  spread  below  and  the  busy  northern 
vale.  After  enjoying  it,  I  entered  the  fortress  by  its 
main  portal  in  the  middle  of  the  southern  wall;  on 
traversing  whose  deep  dark  archway,  I  stood  in  the 
precincts  so  long  hated,  menacing,  and  inaccessible. 
Pyramids  of  cannon-balls  were  reminders  of  those 
days  when  thousands  such  were  hurled  upon  the  roofs 
and  streets  below.  Procuring  an  admission  ticket  at 
the  entrance,  for  the  city's  Museo  del  Risorgimento, 
I  was  conducted  past  the  new  exhibition  buildings,  up 
the  farther  height  of  the  castle,  —  approaching  the 
latter  on  its  western  side. 

On  this  small  peak  of  the  summit  has  stood  the  cita- 
del of  Brescia  from  the  earliest  known  age;  here  the 
Romans  built  their  acropolis,  and  eventually  adorned 
it  wTith  a  marble  temple,  whose  massive  columns  and 
gilded  tiles  flashed  far  and  wide  across  the  plain.1 
The  foundations  of  the  later,  medieval  stronghold  are 
Roman.  Even  at  this  great  height  I  found  a  moat 
around  it,  necessarily  dry,  however,  and  crossed  next 
the  southwest  tower  by  a  pair  of  the  original  draw- 
bridges; the  broader  one,  for  carriages,  was  raised 
against  the  wall;  the  slender  one,  for  foot  passengers, 
was  let  down  by  the  medieval  balance-beam.  In  this 
same  grim,  loop-holed  round-tower,  said  my  guide, 
was  first  imprisoned  Tito  Speri.  Inside  the  wall  still 
another  ascent  rose  before  me,  between  crumbling 
stone  buildings,  to  the  supreme  point  where  the  tem- 
ple had  stood,  one  hundred  and  one  metres  above  the 
city  streets,  —  now  a  bare  spot  with  fragments  of  the 
Roman  foundations;  the  edifice  was  partly  conserved 

1  "The  Brescians,  also  in  this  respect  imitators  of  Rome,  placed  an  altar 
to  the  Genius  of  their  Colony  on  the  Campidoglio.  Its  base  was  discovered 
in  181G."  —  Odorici,  Storie  Bresciane  (sopra). 


BRESCIA  LA  FERREA  493 

till  modern  times  by  reason  of  having  been  turned 
into  the  early  Church  of  S.  Salvatore. 

This  was  at  the  eastern  side  of  the  fortress;  adjacent, 
on  the  west  of  the  open,  rose  the  castle  building  proper, 
with  its  rough  gray  walls;  and  the  mighty  round  keep 
of  medieval  days  stood  detached  beside  it.  From  its 
lofty  summit  the  white-coated  foreigners  used  to  watch 
the  plain,  for  signs  of  a  rising  against  their  tyranny. 
Their  gaze  covered  a  wide  tract  of  country;  for  in  clear 
weather  the  towers  of  Cremona  and  Piacenza  are 
visible  to  the  south,  —  the  latter  fifty  miles  away,  at 
the  foot  of  the  Apennines. 

Burning  with  glory,  rosy  in  the  sunset, 
Lombardy's  plain  lay  far  and  wide  before  them; 
Swayed  the  Virgilian  lake  even  as  a  bridal 
Veil  of  maidens.1 

The  custodian  opened  the  door  of  the  main  building, 
in  its  southern  front,  and  we  mounted  some  dark 
stairs  to  the  two  upper  stories;  both  were  completely 
filled  with  interesting  relics  of  the  Risorgimento,  of 
every  nature,  recalling  all  the  various  aspects  and  trib- 
ulations of  that  terrible  epoch,  and  passing  them  in 
review  before  the  mind,  with  a  new  and  vivid  proxim- 
ity that  was  wrought  from  the  contact  with  such  sur- 
viving objects.  Here  were  the  placards  which  had  been 
posted  from  week  to  week  in  the  streets  of  Brescia, 
during  the  days  of  war  and  rebellion,  —  reporting  the 
latest  successes  or  defeats  of  I  lie  patriotic  cause,  incit- 
ing the  people  to  courage  and  sacrifice,  calling  them  to 
arms,  or  assembly,  or  contribution  of  means;  they  were 

a  burning,  harrowing,  intimate  record  of  human  agita- 
t  ions,  surpassing  in  revivifying  power  any  history  ever 
written. 

1  BCaud  Holland*!  translation  of  Carducci.  The  Virgilian  lake  refers,  of 
coune,  to  the  reed-bound  (ratenoi  Mantua. 


494  PLAIN-TOWNS   OF   ITALY 

Here  was  the  table  that  Garibaldi  then  slept  upon, 
his  saddle  and  carriage,  his  letters  of  blazing  zeal  to 
Brescia  and  her  leaders;  here  were  the  precious  memen- 
toes of  Tito  Speri, — his  arms,  writings,  clothes,  hand- 
kerchief,—  any  commonplace  thing  that  had  been  sanc- 
tified by  his  touch;  there  were  similar  mementos  of 
other  heroes,  in  large  number,  also  relics  of  the  periods 
of  plotting  and  organization,  —  in  the  shape  of  secret 
communications,  signs,  manuals,  agreements,  etc.,  — 
and  relics  of  the  war  periods,  in  the  form  of  guns, 
swords,  cannons,  uniforms,  and  other  equipments.  Es- 
pecially interesting  were  the  wretched  old  muzzle-load- 
ing muskets,  —  with  which  poor  instruments  the  patri- 
ots struggled  against  modern  rifles,  —  and  the  pathetic 
attempts  at  regimentals,  with  which  they  often  took 
the  field. 

Finally,  in  the  low,  top  rooms  of  the  gable,  illumined 
dimly  from  little  barred  windows  set  in  the  four-foot 
stone  walls,  I  observed  with  keen  sympathy  the  nu- 
merous steel  manacles,  —  foot-  and  leg-irons,  —  still 
attached  to  their  heavy  chains,  fastened  at  short  inter- 
vals to  the  walls,  with  which  the  heroic  prisoners  had 
been  loaded  like  wild  beasts.  There  they  had  been 
chained,  side  by  side,  against  the  bare  cold  stones, 
awaiting  the  dawn  that  should  lead  them  forth  to 
death.  So  affecting  was  it  all,  so  vividly  did  it  recall 
those  frightful  days,  that  I  breathed  with  a  real  relief 
when  we  emerged  again  into  the  sunshine,  into  the 
realization  that  Freedom  was  here  at  last,  safe  and 
undying. 

It  were  not  Freedom  if  thou  wert  not  free, 

Nor  wert  thou  Italy,  — 
O  mystic  rose  ingrained  with  blood,  impearled 

With  tears  of  the  whole  world!  l 

1  Swinburne,  Song  of  Italy. 


BRESCIA  LA  FERREA  495 

Another  interesting  walk  to  the  city's  outskirts  is 
that  westward  to  the  great  Caniposanto,  which  one 
first  sees  at  a  distance,  from  the  castle-hilltop.  It 
consists  of  the  customary  quadrangle,  here  quite  ex- 
tensive, lined  on  the  four  sides  by  rows  of  imposing 
cypresses;  the  usual  tombs  of  modern  sculpture  adorn 
the  inner  arcades,  some  of  them  really  beautiful;  and 
at  the  centre  of  the  green  rises  the  principal  monu- 
ment,—  a  lofty  round  tower  upon  a  wide  heavy  base, 
tipped  with  a  pointed  dome,  to  which  one  can  ascend 
by  spiral  stairs. 

One  other  monument  greeted  me,  with  a  farewell 
to  Brescia,  upon  the  afternoon  when  I  repaired  to  the 
station  to  depart.  It  beautifies  a  pleasant  grass-plot 
without  the  Porta  Stazione,  adjacent  to  the  road,  — 
standing  thus  to  welcome  the  arriving  traveler  or 
God-speed  the  departing.  It  is  a  striking  composition, 
unique  and  vigorous,  with  all  the  fire  of  the  modeling 
Italian  genius,  arresting  by  its  very  strangeness  an  eye 
wearied  of  all  the  conventional  designs:  at  the  top  of 
half  a  dozen  steps  rises  a  plain  marble  screen,  some 
ten  feet  high  and  twenty  feet  broad;  upon  this  stands 
another  section  of  similar  size,  embellished  with  a 
prominent  high-relief  of  impressive  beauty,  —  a  madly 
dashing  quadriga,  driven  by  a  majestic,  helmeted 
Goddess  of  Fame,  holding  a  deceased  hero  with  one 
arm  and  a  symbol  of  glory  in  the  other  hand.  The 
symbol,  the  reins,  and  a  few  other  points  are  touched 
with  goldleaf,  of  glittering  brilliance,  which  bestows 
upon  I  he  wholes  dazzling  splendor  befit  1  ing  the  theme; 
and  before  the  lower  screen,  upon  a  pedestal  between 
the  steps,  stands  a  noble  bronze  figure,  of  heroic  size 
and  look,  clad  in  the  stately  gown  of  a  doctor  of  laws 
or  philosophy.  Placed  some  fifty  feel  back  from  the 
street,  upon  a  gentle  grassy  knoll,  encircled  by  flower- 


400  PLAIN-TOWNS   OF  ITALY 

beds  in  front,  and  finely  backed  by  a  row  of  cypresses, 
—  against  whose  massed,  dark  foliage  the  marble 
glistens  and  the  horses  plunge,  —  the  whole  superb 
construction  is  an  ideal  encomium  of  the  patriotic 
statesman,  Zanardelli. 

He  was  another  leader  of  those  glorious  days  of 
strife  and  unification;  his  residence —  whence  he  ad- 
dressed the  people,  and  emerged  to  guide  them  in  their 
crises  —  had  been  shown  to  me  on  Via  S.  Giulia.  And 
so  the  last  thing  I  saw,  as  I  went  away,  was  still  another 
memorial  of  Brescia's  heroic  temper,  —  a  final  re- 
minder of  her  lofty,  intrepid  spirit,  that  led  the  way  to 
freedom  through  blood  and  fire. 

Beautiful  Italy!  —  golden  amber 
Warm  with  the  kisses  of  lover  and  traitor! 
Thou  who  hast  drawn  us  on  to  remember, 
Draw  us  to  hope  now;  let  us  be  greater 
By  this  new  future  than  that  old  story.1 

1  Mrs.  Browning,  Italy  and  the  World. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MONTAGNANA,   ESTE,    AND   MONSELICE 

The  land  that  holds  the  rest  in  tender  thrall 

For  love's  sake  in  them  all, 
That  binds  with  words,  and  holds  with  eyes  and  hands, 

All  hearts  in  all  men's  lands. 

—  Swinburne. 

Through  the  endless  wheat-fields  of  the  middle  plain, 
now  yellow  with  stubble,  now  green  with  the  sprout- 
ing winter  crop,  now  crossed  by  numberless  files  of 
stripped  mulberry  trees  stretching  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach,  I  was  rolling  southeastward  from  Verona 
to  the  historic  district  of  the  Polesine.  Seaward  now, 
toward  the  fair  Euganean  Hills,  —  this  time  upon  their 
southern  side,  whence  sprang  that  foremost  of  all 
Italian  princely  races,  more  famous  even  than  the 
Visconti,  —  the  House  of  Este.  I  was  approaching  the 
immemorial  cradle  of  that  great  family,  the  most  an- 
cient—  aside  from  Savoy  —  of  all  ruling  Italian  dynas- 
ties, the  origin  of  whose  power  and  nobility  was  so  re- 
mote as  to  be  lost  in  the  mists  of  time;  that  family 
which  counts  among  its  descendants  nearly  every 
European  sovereign  of  to-day,  from  King  George  V 
to  the  pettiesl  German  grand  duke.  I  was nearing the 
primeval  stronghold,  at  the  foot  of  the  Colli  Euga- 
nei,  from  which  they  drew  their  name,  and  sallied 
forth  to  their  earliest  conquest."  over  the  whole  sur- 
rounding region  between  the  hills  and  I  lie  Po,  — from 
Legnago  on  the  west  to  the  Adriatic  on  I  he  cast. 

This    wa>    I  lie   district    of   the    I'olcsine,   celebrated 
from  Roman  days  for  the  richness  of  its  alluvial  soil, 


498  PLAIN-TOWNS   OF   ITALY 

washed  down  and  watered  by  innumerable  streams, 
always  thickly  inhabited  by  a  prosperous  agricultural 
people,  with  a  dozen  or  more  wealthy  little  cities  of 
five  to  fifteen  thousand  inhabitants.  It  was  this  fertile 
region  that  the  warlike  Estensi  ruled  from  the  earliest 
period  of  the  Middle  Age,  and  made  the  basis  of  all 
their  future  fame  and  power.  "  Alberto  Azzo  II,"  says 
Gregorovius,  "who  is  originally  mentioned  as  Marchio 
di  Longobardia  (Marquis  of  Lombardy)  governed  the 
territory  from  Mantua  to  the  Adriatic  and  the  region 
about  the  Po,  where  he  owned  Este  and  Rovigo.  .  .  . 
These  lords,  .  .  .  who  first  appeared  about  the  time 
of  the  Lombard  invasion,  were  descended  from  a  fam- 
ily whose  remote  ancestor  was  one  Albert.  The  names 
Adalbert  and  Albert  assume  in  Italian  the  formOberto, 
from  which  we  have  the  diminutives  Obizzo  and  Azzo. 
.  .  .  Alberto  Azzo  II  married  Kunigunde,  daughter 
of  Count  Guelph  III  of  Swabia,  and  in  this  way  the 
famous  German  family  of  Guelph  became  connected 
with  the  Oberti  and  drawn  into  Italian  politics.  When 
Alberto  Azzo  died  in  the  year  1096,  —  more  than  one 
hundred  years  old,  —  he  left  two  sons,  Guelph  and 
Folco;  Guelph  inherited  the  property  of  his  maternal 
grandfather,  Guelph  III,  in  whom  the  male  line  of  the 
house  became  extinct  in  1055.  He  went  to  Germany, 
where  he  became  Duke  of  Bavaria,  and  founded  the 
Guelph  line.  Folco  inherited  his  father's  Italian  pos- 
sessions." 1  He  and  his  son  continued  to  dwell  at  Este 
and  lord  it  over  the  Polesine;  but  his  grandson,  Azzo 
V,  married  the  Marchesella  Adelardi,  heiress  of  the 
leader  of  the  Guelphs  in  the  city  of  Ferrara,  toward 
the  close  of  the  twelfth  century,  —  and  domiciled  him- 
self in  Ferrara,  as  his  father-in-law's  successor.  This 
was  the  beginning  of  the  Estense   leadership  of  the 

1  Gregorovius,  Lucretia  Borgia. 


MONTAGNANA  499 

whole  Guelphic  cause,  and  their  domination  of  Fer- 
rara.  Within  a  few  years,  in  1208,  Azzo  VI,  the  next 
Marquis  of  Este,  drove  the  Ghibelline  faction  entirely 
from  the  city,  and  was  elected  by  the  people  as  their 
hereditary  ruler.  "In  this  way  the  Este  established 
the  first  tyranny  on  the  ruins  of  a  commune." 

While  living  at  Este,  the  marquises  had  given  the 
most  of  their  attention  to  Padua,  considering  them- 
selves the  champions  of  the  Guelphic  party  in  that 
town,  and  indulging  in  frequent  strife  with  the  city 
over  questions  of  territory.  After  removing  to  Ferrara, 
they  kept  up  this  strife,  having  a  continuous  struggle 
to  preserve  their  ownership  of  the  Polesine.  They  re- 
turned to  Este  only  for  an  occasional  villeggiatura;  but 
they  did  not  wish  to  lose  the  fertile  region  upon  which 
the  Paduans,  Veronese,  and  Venetians  looked  with 
such  covetous  eyes,  and  which  they  fought  over  for 
Dearly  three  centuries.  During  Ezzelino  da  Romano's 
lordship  of  Padua,  he  made  especial  efforts  to  wrest  the 
towns  of  the  Polesine  from  the  Estensi;  but  Azzo  VII 
(1215-64)  successfully  resisted,  becoming  Ezzelino's 
bitterest  and  most  steadfast  enemy,  and  finally  effect- 
ing the  combination  that  pulled  him  to  earth  in  1259. 
A/.zo  was  so  financially  weakened  by  the  long  struggle 
that  in  the  following  year  he  sold  Este,  Cerro,  and 
Calaone  to  the  commune  of  Padua,  receiving  them 
back  as  fiefs,  under  an  annual  tribute. 

I  lis  son,  Obizzo  II  (1204-93,)  was  a  strong  ruler,  ex- 
tending the  Estense  sway  to  Modena  and  Reggio;  but 
his  grandson,  Azzo  VIII  (1293-1308),  suffered  the 
loss  of  various  important  hinds  and  castles  in  tin's  re- 
gion, at  the  hands  of  the  Paduans  and  Alberto  della 
Se.il.i.  The  next  marquis,  Fresco,  lost  practically  all  of 
the  district;  but  Can  Grande  della  Scala  in  his  turn 
despoiled  the  Paduans,  seizing  in  1317  the  strongholds 


500  PLAIN-TOWNS   OF  ITALY 

of  Montagnana,  Este,  Monselice,  and  other  towns, 
ami  finally  gaining  possession  of  Padua  itself.  The 
Seala  dominion  of  the  Polesine  lasted  twenty  years. 
In  1337,  Venice,  Florence,  the  Delia  Carrara,  and  Es- 
tensi  entered  into  a  secret  treaty  to  crush  Mastino  II 
della  Scala,  which  was  carried  out,  and  by  which  the 
Estensi  recovered  their  cherished  territory.  Venice 
thereafter  protected  the  Estensi  against  the  Paduans, 
until  she  took  Padua  herself,  in  1405;  receiving  in  re- 
turn many  special  privileges  of  trading  and  transporta- 
tion. The  Polesine,  therefore,  at  this  period  enjoyed 
about  a  century  and  a  half  of  peace  and  prosperity, 
while  the  Este  princes  flourished  at  Ferrara,  celebrated 
far  and  wide  for  the  culture  and  brilliancy  of  their 
Court.  The  classic  revival,  in  which  they  took  such  a 
lead,  was  brought  by  them  also  to  Este  and  its  sur- 
rounding territory;  they  embellished  the  ancestral 
town,  and  gave  many  a  grand  entertainment  in  the 
ancient  castle  on  its  knoll,  where  there  was  usually 
some  member  of  the  family  residing. 

This  splendid  period  reached  its  apogee  under  Lion- 
ello  (1441-50),  Borso  (1450-71),  and  Ercole  (1471- 
1505),  a  trio  of  princes  justly  famed  for  their  culture, 
magnificence,  and  patronage  of  all  the  arts.  Borso 
was  created  by  Emperor  Frederick  II  the  Duke  of 
Modena  and  Reggio,  Count  of  Rovigo  and  Com- 
machio;  and  by  Pope  Paul  VII  was  constituted  Duke 
of  Ferrara,  —  a  nominal  papal  fief.  Ercole,  however, 
fell  into  disaster,  becoming  embroiled  in  a  war  with 
the  Serene  Republic,  which  had  long  coveted  the 
Polesine,  and  now  seized  it  forcibly,  about  1480. 
From  that  time  till  the  coming  of  Bonaparte,  Este, 
Montagnana,  and  the  rest  of  this  district  throve  under 
the  wise  and  equitable  rule  of  Venice.  She  rebuilt 
those  mighty  walls  and  towers  which  still  encircle 


MONTAGNANA  501 

Montagnana  in  all  their  niassiveness,  quite  undecayed, 
and  render  it  to-day  an  ideal  example  of  the  fortified 
Renaissance  town;  she  strengthened  the  old  castles 
of  Este  and  Monselice,  the  main  strongholds  of  the 
region,  which  before  the  days  of  cannon  were  prac- 
tically invulnerable;  and  she  brought  increased  pros- 
perity to  Rovigo,  Battaglia,  and  all  the  eastern  part 
of  the  Polesine,  by  reconstructing  and  maintaining  in 
good  order  that  network  of  canals  which  still  carries 
their  rich  produce  cheaply  to  market.1 

As  far  as  Legnago,  —  which  must  not  be  confounded 
with  Legnano,  the  birthplace  of  Italian  freedom,  north 
of  Milan,  —  my  route  lay  within  the  district  of  the 
noted  Austrian  "Quadrilateral";  the  broad  Adige  was 
its  eastern  boundary,  and  the  fortress  of  Legnago  its 
southeastern  corner.  On  this  ride  the  plain  had  as- 
sumed its  beautiful  dress  of  autumn-gold.  The  lines  of 
drooping,  yellow  willows  along  the  frequent  streams 
and  irrigating-ditches,  the  occasional  straight  files  of 
poplars  along  the  highways,  and  groves  of  beetling 
cypresses  around  graveyards  and  old  monastery 
buildings,  all  relieved  the  flatness  of  the  landscape. 
There  were  russet  plane  trees  also,  shading  the  roads 
and  gathered  about  the  farmhouses  and  villages,  with 
now  and  then  a  small  orchard  of  fruit  trees  next  a 
dwelling.  The  fields  were  mostly  restricted  to  the 
valuable  mulberry;  but  everywhere  surrounding  them, 
serving  as  divisional  lines,  and  occupying  in  rows  all 
the  vineyards,  were  I  hose  arboreal  species  from  which 
the  people  derive  their  scanty  fuel,  -elm,  beech, 
ash,    birch,    etc.,-     their    knobby   boles  now    graced 

1  TIi>t<-  are  recordi  of  canali  in  tin's  district  u  early  .-is  the  dayi  <>f  the 
(ill-*,  which  Rome  duly  enlarged  ami  extended;  but  during  the  Middle 
\  •  -  they  Ml  into  disuse  and  ruin.  Their  renovation  was  commenced  by 
the  Bstensi, and  completed  l>y  the  Republic,  which ulso  added  to  their  size 
and  number. 


502  PLAIN-TOWNS   OF  ITALY 

by  the  summer's  growth  of  boughs,  soon  to  be  cut 
away. 

These  last,  moreover,  in  the  vineyards,  aided  in  pro- 
ducing what  was  the  fairest  feature  of  the  whole  land- 
scape,—  owing  to  the  graceful  way  in  which  the  vines 
are  trained  through  this  section:1  around  each  tree, 
with  its  crown  of  this  year's  tender  boughs,  was 
planted  a  circle  of  stakes,  leaning  outward,  bound  to 
the  trunk  and  to  each  other  by  strings,  along  which 
the  grape  tendrils  clambered  in  the  prettiest  fashion. 
This  was  the  prevalent  method,  though  I  noticed 
others,  and  occasionally  an  instance  of  the  lovely 
Umbrian  fashion  of  swinging  long  festoons  from  tree 
to  tree.  One  charming  feature  of  this  countryside 
was  unusual,  —  the  abundance  of  hedges  everywhere, 
along  the  roads  and  between  the  fields;  not  as  trim 
as  English  hedges,  but  still  very  ornamental.  Water, 
as  usual,  was  much  in  evidence,  the  ditches  and  canals 
for  draining  and  irrigation  being  ever  in  sight,  with 
now  and  then  a  field  entirely  swamped;  a  great  many 
are  flooded  at  the  rainy  season,  but  cultivable  in  the 
others.  Every  foot  of  available  ground  is  carefully 
tilled  in  this  region,  not  an  acre  being  allowed  for 
woodland  or  pasture;  and  the  crop,  aside  from  the 
vine,  is  always  wheat,  wheat,  —  with  the  sole  excep- 
tion of  a  very  little  barley,  and  some  market-garden- 
ing near  the  towns;  which  is  curiously  different  from 
the  ubiquitousness  of  maize  farther  north. 

Another  marked  difference  from  the  northern  plain 
was  the  scarcity  of  the  dwellings:  but  rarely  did  an 
isolated  farmhouse  appear,  and  then  it  was  of  the 
usual  stained  and  crumbling  stucco,  —  dwelling, 
stables,  and  pig-sty  under  one  roof,  surrounding  a 

1  By  the  section  here  described,  is  meant  the  country  around  Legnago 
and  Montagnana. 


MONTAGNANA  503 

yard  heaped  with  manure  and  refuse  of  every  kind; 
while  before  it  stood  generally  a  sort  of  little  outhouse 
whose  use  I  could  not  discern,  with  a  queer  peaked  roof 
of  thatch  or  rushes,  like  a  Malay  hut.  With  these  few 
exceptions,  the  teeming  population  was  still  gathered 
into  villages,  like  the  Middle  Ages,  —  countless  vil- 
lages, each  with  its  long  history,  its  individuality,  its 
dialect,  its  characteristics  of  building,  and  labor,  and 
customs.  For  there  is  no  nation  so  utterly  gregarious 
as  the  Italians,  —  for  whom  life  is  so  much  a  matter 
of  human  society.  Their  idea  of  a  pleasant  locality, 
remarked  Mrs.  Piozzi,  is  expressed  in  the  phrase, 
"  Cio  e  con  un  mondo  d'  amici  cosi.  .  .  .  No  human 
being  suffers  solitude  so  ill  as  does  an  Italian.  They 
can  hardly  believe  that  there  is  existing  a  person  who 
would  not  willingly  prefer  any  company  to  none."  l 

And  how  devotedly  they  become  attached  to  their 
own  little  town  or  hamlet!  "The  provincials,"  says 
Countess  Evelyn  Martinengo-Ccsaresco,  "whatever 
be  their  class,  still  speak  their  own  familiar  idiom  when 
alone.  Each  separate  dialect  is  a  bond  of  union,  a 
freemasonry,  an  echo  from  home  in  distant  parts,  — 
home,  which  in  Italy  is  less  an  emotion  of  the  hearth 
than  of  the  sunlight  as  it  falls  upon  the  native  valley, 
the  village  campanile,  the  piazza  with  the  plane  trees 
and  the  bowling-ground,  the  fountain  with  the  brown- 
armed  girls."1  Yet  to  the  stranger  these  numberless 
hamlets  of  the  plain  are  as  alike  as  their  railway  sta- 
tions, ever  flitting  by.  Ah,  those  stations,  —  surely 
they  must  all  have  been  poured  into  a  single  mould: 
the  long,  uncovered  platform,  the  two-storied  building 
of  creamy  yellow  stucco,  with  its  half-dozen  doorways 
marked  in  plain  black  lettering,  the  stretch  of  regular, 

1  Mrv  Piozzi,  Olimptetfrom  Italian  8ociety,  etc.;  with  an  Introduction 
by  Counteu  Evelyn  MartincnKo-Ci-sareaco. 


504  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

flowered  turf  at  each  end,  separating  off  the  little 
cubical  outhouses  and  the  water-tank,  the  avenue  of 
plane  trees  loading,  straight  as  a  die,  from  the  rear  of 
the  building  to  the  adjacent  borough,  —  what  traveler 
does  not  know  them! 

Carea,  —  where  the  line  from  Verona  to  Rovigo 
connects  with  that  from  Mantua  to  Monselice,  — 
and  Legnago,  the  former  fortress,  both  appeared  to 
be  towns  of  some  size,  with  a  fresh,  restored  look  as  if 
they  had  been  rebuilt  of  late.  Legnago  in  fact  has 
nearly  fifteen  thousand  inhabitants  now,  and  is  said  to 
be  flourishing;  yet  there  is  nothing  to  call  the  stranger 
to  descend  and  pay  it  a  visit.  Half  a  dozen  miles  far- 
ther on,  we  reached  Bevilacqua,  the  first  town  of  the 
Polesine;  and  here  on  the  left  appeared  a  magnificent 
castle,  of  red  brick  with  white  stone  trimmings,  either 
recently  built  or  splendidly  restored;  its  square  form 
was  heavily  battlemented,  with  great,  machicolated 
towers  at  the  angles;  it  stood  amidst  a  park  of  large 
and  handsome  trees,  beside  a  stream  crossed  by  a  fine 
double-arched  bridge.  Beyond  it,  to  the  far  northeast, 
I  caught  the  first  view  of  the  Euganean  Hills,  their 
gentle  slopes  and  rounded  summits  wrapped  in  the 
mist  of  distance. 

Another  four  or  five  miles  brought  us  to  Monta- 
gnana,  and  two  minutes  later  I  was  driving  up  the  cus- 
tomary avenue  to  the  town  in  an  antiquated  rattle- 
trap of  a  public  vettura,  at  the  cost  of  eight  soldi  for 
the  half-mile  distance.  The  fields  on  each  side  were 
rather  bare  of  trees,  giving  me  a  clear  view  of  the 
grand  old  walls  we  were  approaching.  Far  away  to 
the  east  and  west  they  stretched,  as  straight  as  a 
plumb-line,  a  mile  or  more  in  length,  varied  at  regular 
intervals  by  imposing  hexagonal  towers,  loftier  than 
the  tall  curtains  between  them;  ten  of  these  towers  I 


MONTAGNANA  505 

counted,  every  one  as  exact  and  unbroken  as  if  not  a 
century  had  passed  since  its  erection.  Not  a  battle- 
ment appeared  missing  from  their  summits,  nor  from 
the  even,  solid  lengths  of  wall,  whose  clay-colored 
bricks  seemed  endowed  with  all  the  weight  and  dura- 
bility of  stone.  I  could  recall  no  other  brick  fortifica- 
tions in  the  land,  of  such  exceptional  size  and  regular- 
ity, and  such  perfect  preservation.  They  concealed 
all  the  city's  buildings  save  a  few  tiled  roofs,  and  the 
looming  forms  and  campanili  of  the  churches. 

In  this  whole  southern  wall,  it  was  evident,  there 
had  been  originally  no  opening  whatever;  for  medieval 
Montagnana  had  but  two  directions,  east  and  west, 
having  grown  up  along  the  highway  from  Este  to 
Mantua,  beside  which  it  is  strung  out  as  an  attenu- 
ated rectangle,  but  four  or  five  blocks  in  width.  There 
was  little  or  no  passage  at  right  angles  to  this  line,  and 
so  they  confined  themselves  to  two  gates  only,  at  the 
narrow  ends,  which  were  towered  and  castellated  into 
a  state  of  invulnerability.  The  railroad  with  its  sta- 
tion had  altered  that  condition  of  affairs;  and  so  I  saw 
now  before  me  a  modern  opening  for  the  approach, 
in  the  shape  of  two  rounded  archways  near  the  middle 
of  the  wall;  t  lie  broad  moat  had  been  filled  with  earth, 
on  which  we  passed  solidly  to  the  inner  side.  A  single 
block  then  to  the  north,  and  we  entered  the  one  great 
thoroughfare  of  the  town,  —  the  ancient  highway,  — 
which  runs  straight  between  old  arcades  and  stuccoed 
buildings  of  three  stories,  from  one  principal  gateway 
to  the  other.  A  bit  to  the  east  here,  on  the  left  side,  I 
descended  at  the  primitive  little  Albergo  Arena,  the 
best  thing  in  the  way  of  an  inn  that  the  place  could 
offer. 

The  aged  host  and  his  dame  bustled  around  with  an 
excitemenl   which  revealed  that  a  forest icrc  in  Mun- 


506  PLAIN-TOWNS   OF   ITALY 

tagnana  is  a  very  rare  bird  indeed;  not  that  they 
manifested  any  idea  of  plucking  me,  —  they  were  too 
simple  for  any  such  citified  ideas.  On  one  side  of 
the  usual  driveway  entrance  to  the  court,  was  the 
clean-looking  kitchen  with  its  brick  hearth  and  cop- 
per utensils;  on  the  other,  the  general  guest-and- 
eating-room,  beside  which  mounted  the  crooked 
narrow  stairs;  the  first  floor  was  a  maze  of  winding 
passages  and  different  levels,  amongst  which  I  was 
given  a  bare  but  clean  front  room,  for  the  modest  sum 
—  without  bargaining  —  of  one  franc  and  a  half  per 
day.  My  meals  were  cooked  by  the  good  dame  her- 
self (they  had  but  one  helper),  and,  though  served  on 
the  coarsest  of  linen  with  iron  forks,  were  thoroughly 
enjoyed;  for  there  are  certain  things  any  North-Italian 
can  cook  well,  —  minestra,  veal  cutlet  alia  Milanese, 
macaroni,  and  native  vegetables,  —  and  they  nearly 
always  have  some  good  wine  to  add  a  zest.1 

In  the  cool  of  the  afternoon  I  started  out  for  my  pre- 
liminary stroll,  making  eastward  again  on  the  main 
thoroughfare,  beneath  its  ancient  stucco  arcades,  sus- 
tained by  pillars  of  every  shape  and  condition;  and 
a  comparatively  few  steps  opened  out  the  Piazza 
Grande,  stretching  northward  from  the  street  to  a 
most  surprising  extent.  It  was  a  vast  space,  of  great 
age  and  picturesqueness;  paved  with  cobblestones 
around  the  sides,  and  with  flagstones  in  the  broad 
rectangular  centre,  where  stood  the  city's  marble 
monument  to  Vittorio  Emanuele  II;  surrounded  by 
diversified  arcades,  in  aged  stuccoed  buildings  of  every 
type  and  color;  while  the  huge  brick  mass  of  the 
Duomo  projected  boldly  into  the  area  from  its  north- 

1  One  must,  however,  ask  for  Tuscan  or  Piedmont  vintages,  if  he  wishes 
the  best  obtainable;  the  Veronese  are  but  fair,  while  those  of  the  plain  in 
general  are  no  longer  palatable.    (See  next  chapter.) 


MONTAGNANA  507 

east  angle,  reaching  halfway  to  the  monument.  In 
contrast  with  its  simple,  massive  form  of  yellowish 
brown  brick,  the  houses  glowed  with  a  score  and  more 
of  bright  and  variegated  hues,  softened  by  time  into 
a  certain  harmony,  —  gray  tints,  cream,  red,  green, 
pink,  white,  brown,  yellow,  azure,  russet,  vermilion, 
dark  blue,  all  commingled  into  a  happy  prismatic 
sheen. 

The  arcades  were  entirely  round-arched,  save  at  the 
northern  end  of  the  east  side  next  the  church,  where 
a  very  old  dwelling  —  one  of  three  stories,  like  the 
majority  —  rose  upon  Gothic  arches  with  ponderous, 
spreading  piers.  Adjacent  stood  two  houses  of  almost 
equal  antiquity,  one  resting  upon  similar  stuccoed 
piers,  the  other  upon  gray-stone  Doric  columns;  after 
which,  going  south,  appeared  a  couple  in  which  the 
arcades  were  two-storied,  —  one  supported  by  heavy, 
rusticated,  stone  piers,  the  other  by  hexagonal  stone 
pillars;  behind  these  at  some  distance  soared  a  mighty, 
medieval,  brick  tower,  which  proved  to  belong  to  the 
ca.stello  of  the  eastern  gate.  Nearly  as  ancient  as  these 
crumbling  buildings  were  those  of  the  northern  por- 
tioD  of  the  piazza,  beyond  the  Duomo;  but  its  south- 
ern side  was  of  the  later  Renaissance,  centred  by  a 
large  stuccoed  pcdazzo  with  brown-stone  trimmings, 
curiously  painted  pink  upon  its  string-course,  brown 
with  white  veinings  upon  its  entablature,  and  light 
green  in  it s  upper  body,  veined  with  pink  and  white. 
On  its  left  stood  another  palazzo,  topped  with  two 
of  the  oddest  ornanient  ;il  ehiinneys  I  h;il  I  have  ever 
seen, —  huge  stone  structures  upon  the  eaves,  carved 
like  swelling  Oriental   turrets, — strange  relics  of  the 

rococo. 

The  first  hall  <>f  the  western  side  alone  was  modern, 
composed  of  five  classic  edifices  of    rather  imposing 


508  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

design,  with  handsome  arcades,  cornices,  and  bal- 
conies; the  one  upon  the  corner  being  exceedingly 
ornate,  with  gray  stucco  relievo  upon  its  architraves, 
window-frames,  and  comicione.  Under  the  fifth 
arcade  I  found,  to  my  surprise  and  pleasure,  a  first- 
class  modern  caffe,  recently  started,  —  the  "Caffe 
Loggia"  of  Pietro  Stefani;  a  fact  of  much  significance 
to  travelers,  because  here  one  is  able  to  obtain  good 
cafe-au-lait  in  the  morning,  cafe  noir  in  the  evening, 
afternoon  tea  when  wanted,  and  all  the  customary 
beverages,  besides  the  daily  and  illustrated  journals, 
—  which  Montagnana  had  never  seen  before.  Im- 
mediately beyond  it  is  the  local  theatre,  with  a  noble 
entrance  loggia  adorned  by  Doric  columns  of  gray 
granite,  —  where  traveling  companies  often  give  per- 
formances, including  vaudeville. 

Advancing  to  the  northern  portion  of  the  piazza,  I 
observed  two  interesting  Renaissance  palaces  on  its 
western  side:  the  first,  a  small  quaint  edifice  of  Pal- 
ladian  style;  the  second,  a  most  eccentric  old  dwelling 
of  preposterous  hues.    Its  round  arches  below  were 
painted  in  imitation  of  inset  red-marble  panels,  and 
topped  by  a  creamy-yellow  entablature,  with  medal- 
lions in  the  spandrils  containing  busts;  the  first-floor 
windows  were  pointed,  tipped  with  reliefs  of  fruit  and 
foliage,  and  set  in  rectangular  frames,  between  which 
the  body  was  colored  red  and  green   in    checkered 
designs;  the  second-floor  windows  were  circular,  in 
square  frames,  interspersed  by  octagonal  panels  of 
reddish  tint,  holding  white  medallions  with  busts  in 
grisaille;  the  string-courses  were  arcaded,  and  the 
fantastic  cornice  was  upheld  by  sculptured  bat-like 
creatures;   down   the   angles   extended   two   pilaster 
strips,  painted,  like  all  the  rest,  in  imitation  of  red  and 
green  veined  marble.   It  was  a  weird  specimen  of  the 


MONTAGNANA  509 

• 

deepest  decadence  of  the  Renaissance.  On  the  east 
side  rose  another  good  Palladian  mansion,  with  a 
Doric  colonnade;  and  a  third  handsome  palazzo 
adorned  the  street  leading  northward  from  the  left- 
hand  corner,  covered  with  an  interesting  old  wooden 
roof,  projecting  widely  on  wooden  consoles.  The 
street  was  broad,  and  arcaded  on  both  sides,  but  ended 
only  a  block  away,  against  a  grim  tower  of  the  north- 
ern wall. 

The  sombre  old  Cathedral,  amidst  all  this  palatial 
architecture,  so  surprising  in  a  town  of  ten  thousand 
souls,  stood  solitary,  massive,  and  uncouth,  like  a 
relic  of  some  darker,  savage  era,  —  as  indeed  it  was; 
the  vast  brick  walls,  supported  by  clumsy  spreading 
buttresses  at  the  sides  and  angles,  had  once  been 
encased  in  stucco,  which  now  was  practically  all  crum- 
bled away;  their  plainness  was  relieved  by  naught 
but  simple  pilaster-strips  between  the  buttresses,  a 
crude  arcaded  cornice,  a  marble  portal,  and  three  slen- 
der open  canopies  topping  the  flat  gable,  holding  each 
a  bell  within  its  Corinthian  columns.  There  was  no 
campanile;  the  transepts  ended  in  lower  apses,  decor- 
ated in  Lombard  fashion  with  pilaster-strips;  and  a 
pair  of  simple  side  porches,  upon  low  arches,  snuggled 
into  the  angles  between  transepts  and  nave.  Further 
evidences  of  the  building's  Gothic  period,  —  probably 
the  early  fifteenth  century,  —  were  offered  in  the  re- 
markable paucity  and  the  lancet  form  of  the  windows, 
only  two  or  three  in  each  side;  while  1he  stern  facade 
had  but  a  single  one,  circular  in  shape,  without  frame 
or  tracery. 

The   marble  portal      -I  found,  upon  advancing  to 

it  —  was  a  later  addition  to  the  Gothic  body,  of  the 
high  Renaissance:  a  pair  of  fluted  Corinthian  columns 

on  each  side  of  the  round-arched  doorway  supported 


510  PLAIN-TOWNS    OF  ITALY 

a  broad  entablature,  of  which  the  chief  feature  was  a 
circular  niche  in  the  middle,  holding  a  well-executed 
and  rather  pleasing  half-figure  of  the  Madonna  with 
her  Child.  The  two  simple  brick  pilaster-strips  rising 
beside  the  portal,  were  oddly  broken  off  at  mid-height, 
for  a  fifth  of  their  length,  and  protruded  like  chim- 
neys above  the  sloping  arcaded  cornice;  they  are,  I 
believe,  absolutely  unique.  Another  peculiar  feature 
was  the  huge  clock-face  in  the  gable,  just  above  the 
plain  circular  window.  In  the  right  wall  of  the  nave, 
externally,  I  found  embedded  several  ancient  marble 
inscriptions,  and  two  or  three  simple  early  tombs. 
High  upon  a  buttress  of  the  right  transept  appeared 
a  strange  marble  relief  like  a  coat-of-arms,  showing 
two  putti  or  genii  beside  a  hound,  and  inscribed, 
"Divo  Prothomartiri  Stephano." 

The  interior  of  this  unusual  church,  when  I  ex- 
amined it  next  morning,  proved  to  be  equally  peculiar: 
it  was  very  lofty,  dark,  and  cool,  and  especially  bare, 
being  designed  in  a  queer  mixture  of  Gothic  and  Re- 
naissance forms,  which  showed  the  transition  period. 
The  round-arched,  plastered  nave,  without  aisles  or 
chapels,  ended  in  a  still  darker  choir,  mysteriously 
illumined  by  five  long  blue  windows  of  much  opaque- 
ness, and  approached  by  three  broad  red-marble  steps. 
Along  the  side  walls  of  the  nave  ran  oaken  panelings 
and  benches  like  choir  seats,  with  prettily  carved 
cornices,  broken  midway  by  a  single  altar  on  each 
hand;  that  on  the  left  was  of  horrible  baroque  form,  the 
other  had  a  most  beautiful,  Renaissance,  marble  frame, 
exquisitely  sculptured  on  every  part  with  foliations 
interspersed  with  tiny  putti,  and  surmounted  by  sev- 
eral statuettes  upon  the  cornice.  This  frame  held  a 
large  and  magnificent  canvas  by  Buonconsiglio,  — 
signed,  dated  1513,  —  representing  Mary  Magdalen 


MONTAGNANA  511 

between  St.  Anthony  of  Padua  and  an  archangel 
grasping  the  hand  of  Tobias;  these  glorious,  life-size 
figures  stood  apparently  in  a  domed  rotunda,  —  the 
Magdalen  upon  a  pedestal,  —  and  were  colored  with 
delightful  simplicity  in  rich  shades  of  crimson,  white, 
and  brown.  It  alone  was  worth  the  trip  to  Monta- 
gnana.  Above  it,  along  the  marble  frieze,  gamboled 
a  most  charming  line  of  cherubs  in  high-relief,  sur- 
passingly winsome  in  their  grace  and  joyousness.  I 
did  not  succeed  in  ascertaining  the  sculptor's  name. 

The  old  pavement  of  the  nave  was  tessellated  in 
red  and  white  marbles;  the  organ-loft  was  perched 
over  the  main  entrance,  and  a  small  altar  was  located 
in  each  front  corner.  There  was  no  dome;  the  transepts 
were  short  and  apsidal,  containing  altars  between 
pairs  of  lancet  windows,  —  baroque  in  form,  though  of 
polished  granite  and  Siena  marble.  The  southern 
pala  was  unimportant,  but  that  of  the  high-altar  was 
by  Buonconsiglio  again,  —  another  exceptionally 
large  canvas,  depicting  the  Transfiguration :  Christ  is 
shown  talking  with  Moses  and  Elias,  upon  a  cloud 
that  seems  to  press  down  upon  the  three  dazed  and 
prostrate  apostles,  gazing  up  with  awe  and  amazement 
at  the  angels  hovering  above  the  speakers.  It  is  not 
so  high  a  work  as  the  other;  for  the  Christ  seems  to  be 
posing,  the  apostles  are  distorted,  convulsed,  in  group- 
ing and  movement,  and  none  of  them  are  quite  life- 
like,—  doubtless  due  to  the  retouching.  The  stucco 
framework  of  this  apse  was  unusual,  —  a  triumphal 
arch,  adorned  with  rosettes  upon  its  soffit,  upheld  by 

giant  Corinthian  Columns  on  high  double  bases,  which 
were  decorated  each  with  a  series  of  ten  busts  in 
relii ■">:  Beven  tall  depressed  arches  extended  round  the 

apse,  framing  the  windows,  and  supporting  an  elabo- 
rate entablature  with  a  row  of  little  heads  upon  the 


51  >  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

frieze,  —  while  their  spandrils  held  other  busts,  within 
medallions.  The  half-dome  contained  an  enormous 
fresco  of  the  Ascension,  aged  and  damaged,  but  of 
splendidly  effective  composition,  —  endless  throngs 
of  angels  being  visible  within  the  gates  of  the  opened 
Paradise,  above  the  twelve  heroic  figures  of  the 
apostles.  It  was  powerfully  conceived  and  drawn,  and 
once  must  have  been  sublime;  its  author  appeared  to 
be  unknown. 

The  sides  of  the  choir  were  richly  adorned  with 
oaken  panelings  above  the  double  row  of  stalls: 
Corinthian  pilasters,  formerly  gilded  upon  their  delic- 
ate reliefs,  framed  five  lofty  panels  on  each  wall,  that 
held  painted  scenic  tableaux  and  large  individual 
figures;  these  were  evidently  by  different  hands,  for 
those  on  the  left  were  better,  —  including  a  Flight 
into  Egypt  with  a  charming  Madonna,  in  a  pleasing, 
finely  toned  landscape.  The  pavement  of  the  choir  also 
was  exceptionally  rich,  and  very  old,  being  inlaid  with 
diamonds  in  black,  red,  and  yellow  marbles. 

In  the  left  transept  appeared  a  third  great  canvas 
by  Buonconsiglio,  —  the  Madonna  being  crowned  by 
two  flying  putti,  seated  between  Saints  Roch  and 
Sebastian,  in  a  marbled  hall  sustained  by  Corinthian 
columns;  the  putti  and  the  Sebastian  being  retouched 
out  of  any  semblance  to  reality,  but  the  face  of  St. 
Roch  still  showing  the  power  of  the  master.  The  Vir- 
gin's form,  clad  simply  in  a  red  bodice  and  green  robe, 
remained  the  best  of  the  three,  although  her  head 
did  incline  rather  too  sentimentally  on  one  shoulder. 
Another  large  Renaissance  canvas  hung  in  the  right 
transept,  —  an  odd  one,  depicting  a  Venetian  naval 
battle  with  the  Turks;  probably  a  relic  of  the  fame 
of  the  Venetian  Admiral  Pisani,  who  had  a  country 
palace  at  Montagnana,  and  lies  buried  here. 


MONTAGNANA  513 

This  same  morning  the  piazza  presented  an  appear- 
ance very  different  from  its  vacant  neatness  of  the  pre- 
ceding evening:  it  was' fulfilling  its  primary  functions 
as  a  market-ground.  The  whole  of  the  paved  central 
space  was  a  mass  of  booths  with  bright,  tented  cov- 
erings, vending  every  variety  of  produce,  clothing, 
and  household  articles;  a  dense  crowd  thronged  their 
narrow  alleys,  and  the  surrounding  streets  were 
jammed  with  country  vehicles  and  peddlers'  wagons. 
In  the  cool  of  the  afternoon,  when  the  great  part  of 
this  gathering  had  already  subsided,  I  strolled  east- 
ward on  the  main  street,  to  the  tall  edifice  of  the  Muni- 
cipio  close  at  hand  upon  the  right.  It  stood  somewhat 
back  from  the  way,  a  three-storied  brick  palazzo, 
covered  cleverly  with  stucco  to  resemble  rusticated 
stone  (which  was  now  much  worn  off)  and  of  attractive 
Renaissance  design:  the  ground  story  was  arcaded, 
with  triple  openings  and  square  piers,  forming  a  loggia 
two  bays  deep,  in  which  stood  the  handsome  portal, 
framed  by  Corinthian  columns;  the  windows  above 
were  divided  by  Ionic  pilasters,  coupled  at  the  angles. 
This  building  was  erected  by  the  great  Sammicheli, 
and  long  occupied  by  the  Venetian  Podestas. 

I  mounted  the  main  staircase  just  within  the  por- 
tal,  and  succeeded  in  finding  a  considerate  official  to 
show  me  about.  The  principal  apartment  was  the 
large  Sala  del  Consiglio  on  the  second  floor,  lo  the 
right,  which  retained  its  original  marble  pavement  and 
noble  carved  oak  roof.  Here  I  found  Buonconsiglio's 
remaining  picture,  very  lit  lie  retouched  and  in  fine 
condition:  it  depicted  the  throned  Madonna,  with 
two  charming  child-angels  playing  musical  instru- 
ments a1  her  feet,  Saints  Paul  and  Sebastian  anda 
bishop  standing  to  the  right,  Saints  Peter  and  John 
the    Baptisl    and   another  on    the   left,  —  all  posed 


514  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

within  a  small  vaulted  rotunda  sustained  by  columns. 
The  tone  was  deliriously  golden;  the  life-size  figures 
were  of  great  naturalness  and  splendid  b.eauty,  su- 
perbly colored,  in  a  subdued  golden  light.  Especially 
lovely  was  the  face  and  form  of  the  Madonna,  and 
all  of  them  were  expressive  of  celestial  bliss;  —  truly 
an  extraordinary  picture  to  preside  over  the  meetings 
of  a  small  town  council.1  The  adjacent  hall  of  the  Ar- 
chivio  Vecchio,  upon  the  front,  contained  a  beautiful 
red-marble  chimney-piece  by  Sammicheli;  the  other 
rooms  were  modernized  and  of  no  special  interest. 

The  main  street  continued  eastward  between  aged 
stucco  houses  of  two  and  three  stories,  colored  with 
kaleidoscopic  effect,  and  arcaded  on  both  sides,  —  inter- 
spersed with  an  occasional  colonnade  without  arches; 
and  down  each  side  street  to  the  right,  but  one  block 
distant,  was  seen  the  accompanying  city  wall,  sur- 
mounted by  its  tall  battlements  and  mighty  towers, 
with  its  fighting-platform  sustained  by  a  succession 
of  huge  brick  arches.  Finally  the  way  debouched 
into  a  broad  piazza  before  the  great  castle  of  the 
eastern  gate,  called  the  Porta  S.  Zeno,  —  a  typical 
aggregation  of  medieval  embattled  structures,  trans- 
porting one  bodily  to  the  bellicose  sixteenth  century. 
Somewhat  to  the  right  and  far  to  the  left  stretched  the 
three-storied,  battlemented,  brick  edifice  of  the  castello, 
pierced  by  the  three  successive  ports  of  the  dark,  tun- 
neled gateway,  —  the  third,  or  anteport,  extending 
beyond  the  walls.    To  the  right  the  old  building  was 

1  This  masterpiece  appears  to  me  Buonconsiglio's  finest  surviving  work, 
surpassing  even  his  beautiful  pala  of  S.  Rocco  at  Vicenza.  In  it  he  ap- 
proaches nearest  to  the  ineffable  grace  and  coloring  of  Palma  Vecchio, 
upon  whom  he  clearly  modeled  his  style,  after  his  study  of  the  latter's 
methods  at  Vicenza  and  Venice.  This  was  one  of  the  master's  last  works; 
and  makes  us  sorrowful  indeed  that  he  died  at  the  early  age  of  thirty - 
three,  with  such  a  promise  of  future  glories  unfulfilled. 


MOXTAGXANA  515 

entered  by  a  ponderous  rusticated  archway,  above 
which  opened  handsome  double-arched  windows  in  the 
upper  stories;  beyond  this  extended  a  lower  structure 
of  stucco, — marked  "Cavallerizza"  over  its  entrance, 
—  which  embraced  the  whole  southeastern  angle  of 
the  city  walls;  to  the  left  the  castle  was  pierced  by 
another  grand  archway,  but  the  deep  windows  were 
square-headed  and  plain.  Two  massive  keeps  soared 
behind  the  more  southern  buildings,  —  one  in  the  rear 
of  the  "Cavallerizza,"  the  hexagonal  corner  tower 
of  the  ramparts;  the  other  just  beside  the  anteport, 
the  square  guard-tower  of  the  entrance  and  donjon 
of  the  fortress. 

Through  all  these  edifices  and  the  piazza  poured 
an  abundance  of  martial  life,  —  for  here  was  located 
the  large  garrison  of  Montagnana,  consisting  mostly 
of  cavalry.  Soldiers  lounged  everywhere,  in  doors,  in 
windows, in  the  open;  scores  were  rubbing  down  their 
horses  before  the  castle,  and  exercising  them  in  the 
square;  through  the  momentarily  opened  gate  of  the 
"Cavallerizza"  I  saw  its  vast  yard  filled  with  other 
steeds  and  troopers,  similarly  engaged.  On  traversing 
the  deep  dark  gateway,  over  whose  well-like  ports  the 
mighty  donjon  loomed  like  a  menacing  Colossus,  I 
found  the  same  scenes  being  enacted  in  the  broad  dry 
bed  of  the  fosse:  a  hundred  or  two  of  cavalrymen  were 
currying  their  chargers  in  I  Ik-  shade  of  the  tall  horse- 
chestnuts  along  the  outer  bank,  and  trying  to  teach 
them  various  feata  and  tricks.  Hie  walls  had  been 
pierced  with  rows  of  modern  windows  and  doorways, 
and  a  modern  extension  of  the  castle  encroached  upon 
the  9ward.  As  for  the  gateway ,  il  was  untouched,  con- 
serving still  its  massive  dnquecento  gates  of  bolted 

wood,  between  the  first  and  second  ports;  although 
the  approach  was  a  later  bridge  of  masonry,  on  whose 


516  PLAIN-TOWNS   OF  ITALY 

parapets  sat  a  throng  of  citizens  watching  the 
soldiers. 

From  I  his  the  highway  extended  straightaway  to  the 
east,  between  an  indefinite  succession  of  villas  and  large 
dwellings,  with  occasional  gardens;  and  the  first  edi- 
fice on  the  left  was  an  imposing  Palladian  palace 
adorned  with  Doric  half-columns  below  and  Ionic 
above,  all  of  creamy  stucco.  It  was  the  villa  of  Ad- 
miral Pisani,  whose  arms  were  visible  in  the  pediment, 
flanked  by  two  reclining  female  figures  of  marble.  On 
its  farther  side  extended  a  baroque,  one-storied  chapel, 
which  contains  the  Admiral's  tomb,  —  said  to  be  an 
excellent  piece  of  Renaissance  sculpture.  This  was  a 
branch  of  the  same  opulen  t  family  that  built  the  Palazzo 
Stra  on  the  Brenta;  it  existed  until  recent  years,  when 
by  the  marriage  of  a  sole  surviving  daughter  its  pos- 
sessions passed  to  the  Conti  Giusti.  The  Count  was 
not  now  in  residence,  and  without  his  personal  per- 
mission I  was  unable  to  enter. 

I  strolled  for  half  a  mile  down  the  road,  admiring 
the  graceful  vagaries  of  villa  architecture,  —  the  ar- 
cades, logge,  towers,  and  dainty  cotta-work,  the  walls 
overhung  by  draperies  of  vine,  and  the  beautiful  gar- 
dens adorned  with  statues  and  pavilions.  On  return- 
ing to  Piazza  Grande,  I  inspected  the  street  leading 
southward  from  it,  which  was  one  startling  rainbow  of 
vivid  hues,  including  rose,  lavender,  bistre,  ochre, 
and  various  other  gaudy  tints,  all  recently  renewed. 
At  its  end,  backing  upon  the  city  wall,  rose  the  old, 
abandoned  Church  of  S.  Francesco,  a  brick  edifice 
of  pleasing  Gothic  lines,  topped  by  a  handsome 
campanile,  with  a  belfry  of  double  ogive  arches  on 
coupled  marble  shafts.  Near  by  on  the  west  I  found 
the  strangest  garden  wall  that  I  ever  saw,  resembling 
a  vermilion  postage-stamp  from  Turkey  or  Persia. 


MONTAGNANA  517 

Immediately  west  of  the  albergo,  on  the  main  street, 
rose  an  interesting  Gothic  palazzo  of  the  early  quat- 
trocento: its  charming  feature  was  a  colonnaded  win- 
dow of  five  ogive  arches  with  rectangular  cusps,  in 
the  middle  of  the  piano  nobile,  —  their  points  relieved 
with  foliated  caps,  —  and  two  balconies  of  exquisite, 
marble,  open-work  railings,  extending  at  the  window's 
ends,  upon  elaborate  marble  consoles.  Flanking  these 
were  single  windows  of  similar  design,  underset  by 
frescoed  red  busts  in  panels;  and  the  ground-floor 
arcade  upon  Corinthian  columns,  contained  a  delight- 
ful Renaissance  portal.  This  handsome  palace,  and  a 
number  of  others  upon  the  main  thoroughfare,  of  more 
purely  Renaissance  design,  gave  proofs  of  the  extens- 
ive use  of  Montagnana  in  earlier  days  as  a  place  of 
viUeggiatura  for  the  noble  Venetian  families. 

I  walked  on,  toward  sunset,  to  the  western  city 
gate,  Porta  Legnago,  which  as  a  gateway,  pur  et 
simple,  proved  more  formidable  than  the  eastern, 
though  not  accompanied  by  any  castle;  it  had  five 
ports,  —  two  without  the  wall,  one  within  its  breadth, 
and  two  inside,  all  surrounded  by  lofty  battlemented 
erections;  the  outer  ports  protruding  upon  the  bridge 
of  masonry  that  spanned  the  now  grassy  moat.  Domi- 
nating  these  was  the  customary  great  tower,  of  colos- 
sal height,  splendidly  machicolated  and  crenelated. 
The  preservation  here,  as  elsewhere,  was  very  re- 
markable. Beyond  it  the  highway  plunged  at  once  into 
t he  luxurianl  open  country. 

The  little  city  bas  a  couple  of  parallel  back  streets, 
north  of  t  be  main  one,  and  half  a  dozen  widely  spaced 
at  righl  angles;  all  without  arcades,  save  for  ;i  few 
solitary  houses,  and  well  interspersed  with  gardens. 
These  I  wandered  through  in  the  sunset-hour,  glancing 
over  the  several  additional  churches,  of  uninteresting 


518  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

rococo  design;  —  and  the  next  morning  early,  was 
away  i'or  Este,  catching  a  train  at  7  or  8  a.m.  The 
journey  contained  nothing  noteworthy,  —  only  a 
gradual  nearing  of  the  rounded  Euganean  Hills,  which 
rose  slowly  higher  and  more  distinct,  till  I  descended 
at  their  very  feet.  On  emerging  from  the  little  station 
I  saw  the  two  southernmost  peaks  towering  immedi- 
ately to  the  north,  —  the  end  of  the  chain,  obscuring 
the  others  by  their  bulk;  they  were  smoothly  topped, 
verdant  cones,  checkered  by  grain-fields  here  and  there, 
with  one  white-walled  village  perched  upon  a  shoulder 
halfway  up,  and  another  ensconed  in  the  far  saddle 
between  the  twin  summits,  fifteen  hundred  feet  in  air. 
From  the  lower  slopes  a  long  sharp  ridge  projected 
southward  into  the  plain,  and  upon  the  end  of  this 
was  located,  I  found,  the  ancient  castle  of  the  Estensi. 
The  town  grew  up  along  its  western  side,  reaching  now 
half  a  mile  farther  south,  to  the  railway;  —  a  sleepy 
but  prosperous  little  city  of  eleven  thousand  people. 
Ariosto  made  a  famous  play  of  words  upon  its  name, 
and  its  prosperity  of  his  day: — 

And  because  Charles  shall  say  in  Latin,  "  Este  I"  — 

(That  is,  —  be  lords  of  the  dominion  round!) 

Entitled  in  a  future  season  Este 

Shall  with  good  omen  be  that  beauteous  ground; 

And  thus  its  ancient  title  of  Ateste 

Shall  of  its  two  first  letters  lose  the  sound.1 

Taking  a  vettura,  I  drove  north  along  the  main 
thoroughfare,  Via  Principe  Umberto,  which  was  lined 
at  first  by  comparatively  modern  buildings,  but  later 
ran  between  aged  stucco  houses  of  faded  hues,  arcaded 
on  both  sides,  till  it  debouched  into  the  spacious  Piazza 
Maggiore.    This  stretched  westward  from  the  street, 

1  Ariosto,  Orlando  Furioso,  canto  lxv;  Rose's  translation.  —  "Charles" 
i-  ( lharlemagne.  This  is  a  double  pun,  for  by  the  second  "Este"  the  poet 
refers  to  the  Italian  word  meaning  summer-time,  —  hence,  fertility. 


ESTE  519 

which  continued  again  beyond  it  for  several  blocks; 
but  I  had  not  to  go  so  far,  for  half  a  block  beyond 
the  square,  on  the  left  hand,  I  was  set  down  at  the 
town's  best  hostelry,  —  as  it  was  recommended  to  me, 

—  the  "Albergo  Cavallino,"  conducted  by  the  good 
dame  Giuseppina  Zannini.  She  gave  me  her  principal 
guest-room,  a  large  and  comfortable  chamber  on  the 
first-floor  front;  and  I  had  naught  to  complain  of  but 
the  inevitable  company  at  meal-times  of  the  usual  ob- 
streperous citizens.  Of  course  one  can  always  escape 
such  company  by  dining  in  one's  room,  but  I  prefer 
to  observe  the  life  of  these  small  places. 

It  being  still  early  at  my  arrival,  I  soon  returned  to 
Piazza  Maggiore,  which,  as  I  now  observed,  lay  just 
a  block  west  of  the  foot  of  the  ruined  fortress  of  the 
Estensi,  —  being  connected  with  the  latter  by  a  short 
street.  The  broad  square  was  paved,  as  at  Monta- 
gnana,  by  medieval  cobbles  around  the  sides  and  gray 
flags  reticulated  with  white  lines  in  the  middle;  at  its 
north  centre  stood  a  handsome  relic  of  the  Old  Regime, 

—  a  tall,  red  Venetian  mast  upheld  by  a  gray  sand- 
stone base,  carved  with  four  lions  couchant  at  the 
corners.  Roundabout  stretched  a  picturesque  assort- 
ment of  old  stuccoed  buildings,  variegated  in  design 
and  color,  and  in  the  form  of  their  ground-story 
arcades.  The  supports  of  the  latter  were  bewilderingly 
varied,  showing  every  epoch  from  the  Romanesque 
to  tli*'  basesl  rococo;  there  was  but  one  instance  of 
pointed  arches,  the  fine  old  Gothic  palazzo  at  the 
left  end  of  the  western  side,  with  windows  in  painted 
trefoil  frames,  upon  a  checkered  body  of  red  and 
cream.    Under  the  arcade  of  the  adjacenl  bright  red 

building    I    later    found     the    town's    first-class    ealle, 

frequented  by  the  officers  and  signori. 
The  eastern  row  of  edifices  was  the  mosl  ancient  and 


520  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

mouldering,  with  shops  occupying  the  ground  floors. 
The  northern  was  centred  by  a  pretentious  Renais- 
sance palace,  adorned  with  balustrades  and  Corin- 
thian pilasters  on  the  upper  stories,  and  topped  by  a 
line  of  dwarf  obelisks.  In  the  middle  of  the  southern 
side  stood  the  Palazzo  Municipale,  thrusting  its  pon- 
derous bulk  forward  from  the  row,  —  a  stuccoed  edi- 
fice with  baroque  windows,  and  a  clock-face  in  its 
gable,  resting  upon  a  broad  deep  loggia  of  granite 
columns;  these  were  of  polished  dark  gray,  arranged 
in  couples,  and  sustaining  flat  rounded  arches.  The 
ringhiera-balcony  projected  before  a  central  window 
of  triple  arches,  over  which  was  an  inscription  stating, 
"Da  qui  — Garibaldi— parlo  —  26  Febbraio,  1867." 
Where  did  he  not  speak,  —  that  tireless  patriot? 

At  the  back  of  this  loggia  I  observed  a  lifelike  bronze 
bust  of  Vittorio  Emanuele  II,  before  a  marble  niche; 
and  upon  the  third  story  of  the  right  wing  I  noticed 
the  old  Estense  arms  in  large  relief,  —  a  Roman  warrior 
and  a  female  standing  beside  a  shield  carved  with  a 
heavily  battlemented  castle  of  three  towers,  the  cen- 
tral highest.  There  being  nothing  of  importance  to 
see  within  this  palace,  which  was  so  long  the  seat  of 
the  Venetian  Podestas,  I  took  the  short  eastern  street 
to  the  foot  of  the  hillside,  gazing  as  I  walked  at  the 
picture  afforded  by  its  verdant  slope.  The  broad 
grassy  descent  was  dotted  with  small  trees,  and  en- 
folded by  the  ancient,  battlemented  walls  of  the  Este 
fortress,  which  curved  down  on  each  hand  from  the 
ruined  citadel  at  the  summit.  Of  this  citadel,  the 
primary  residence  of  that  great  family  in  the  Dark 
Ages,  there  remained  visible  but  a  semicircular  brick 
wall,  concave  in  shape,  tall  and  crenelated,  reaching 
from  one  shattered  square  tower  to  another,  with  the 
lofty  donjon  of  the  castle  still  soaring  skyward  from 


ESTE  521 

the  middle;  all  were  beautifully  covered  with  ivy, 
climbing  over  every  part  and  drooping  from  the  battle- 
ments.1 From  the  flanking  keeps  the  enceinture  walls 
descended  in  successive  steps  to  the  plain;  each  step 
marked  by  another  tower,  broken  and  overgrown,  a 
mere  shell  of  its  quondam  solidity. 

The  Estensi  themselves  descended,  as  time  ad- 
vanced, from  that  primeval  rocca  to  a  more  civilized 
habitation  at  the  bottom  of  the  slope,  built  just  within 
the  basic  line  of  the  fortress;  by  the  time  they  removed 
to  Ferrara  this  had  been  extended  to  nearly  the  full 
length  of  that  line,  and  embraced  the  outer  wall  itself, 
over  which  the  palace  looked  westward  upon  the  town 
with  a  myriad  of  grim  windows,  turrets  and  towers. 
Of  what  stirring  scenes  and  princely  pageants  was  it 
not  the  theatre,  —  that  vanished  medieval  abode,  so 
picturesque  and  celebrated,  furnished  in  the  most 
lavish  manner  of  the  later  Middle  Age.  In  the  Renais- 
sance epoch,  when  its  owners  had  removed  to  Ferrara, 
it  was  covered  with  stucco  and  gradually  altered  ac- 
cording to  the  ideas  of  the  classic  revival,  to  fulfill 
its  oew  position  as  the  villa  of  a  cultured  prince.  But 
following  the  transfer  of  Este  to  Venice,  during  the  war 
of  the  League  ofCambrai  and  other  troublous  times  of 
the  cinqucrcnfo,  I  he  deserted  palace  several  times  took 
fire  burning  wing  by  wing,  till  naught  remained  stand- 
ing but  the  centra]  portion.  This  was  finally  acquired 
by  Doge  Mocenigo,  who  remodeled  it  to  serve  his 
family  as  .1  country  villa,  and  the  ruined  parts  were 
cleared  away.  So  ii  has  continued  to  I  lie  presenl  day, 
l  he  villa  being  seized  by  the  authorities  of  late,  for 
use  as  a  museum  of  the  antiquities  of  the  town;  beside 

1  These  three  ancient  towers,  it  is  very  interesting  in  Qote,were  without 
doubt  tin-  originals  "f  the  three  depicted  on  thai  coat-of-arms  which 

became  one  "f  tin-  moM  f.wnou.s  in  tin-  world. 


PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

which  they  have  built  a  new  "Istituto  Femminile," 
on  a  portion  of  the  ground  once  covered  by  the  pal- 
arc's  Lefl  wing. 

What  I  now  beheld,  therefore,  as  I  advanced  to  the 
street  running  north  and  south  along  the  foot  of  the 
slope,  —  the  street  that  formerly  bordered  the  basic 
wall  of  the  fortress,  —  was  the  original,  battlemented, 
brick  wall  itself,  still  standing,  except  in  the  middle 
portion,  where  it  was  broken  by  the  edifices  of  the 
Villa  Mocenigo;  at  the  far  angles,  two  blocks  distant 
from  each  other,  stood  the  old  corner  towers  of  the 
enceinture,  square  and  shattered.  The  central  build- 
ings were  in  three  parts,  all  relics  of  the  Estense  Pal- 
ace :  at  the  left  rose  a  two-storied  structure,  of  rough 
brick  and  cobblestones  below,  in  alternate  courses, 
and  stucco-work  above,  with  rusticated  windows; 
next  came  a  brick  wall  of  five  filled  arches  containing 
three  doors  and  two  windows,  behind  which  rose  a 
two-storied  brick  edifice  apparently  unaltered  from 
Estense  days,  decorated  with  five  small  white-stucco 
shields  of  the  family  arms;  before  it  stood  the  life-size 
plaster  figure  of  a  Roman  warrior,  astride  of  a  shield 
in  Perugino's  manner.  The  left-hand  doorway  here  was 
marked,  "Museo";  before  it  on  a  column,  standing 
upon  a  heap  of  rocks  surrounded  by  evergreen  shrubs, 
was  posed  a  modern  bronze  bust  of  the  poet-patriot, 
Felice  Cavallotti,  who  was  a  resident  of  Este.  To  the 
right  of  this  stretched  what  was  apparently  a  low, 
stuccoed  common  dwelling.  The  old  brick  wall  on 
each  side  of  these  buildings  was  prettily  draped  with 
ivy,  which  at  the  northern  end  hung  like  a  scarlet 
blanket  from  the  battlements. 

Two  gateways  were  visible  in  these  stretches  of 
wall,  closed  by  iron  grilles.  Advancing  to  the  south- 
ern one,  I  saw  within  a  sort  of  little  park  covering  the 


ESTE  523 

level  space,  shaded  by  fine  trees,  clearly  a  remnant  of 
the  princely  grounds  of  the  Estensi.  The  other 
wicket,  near  the  northern  end,  proved  to  open  into 
the  area  taken  for  the  female  institute;  behind  a  fair 
extent  of  turf  and  flower-beds  stood  the  modern 
building,  —  a  quietly  designed  edifice  of  stucco;  and 
behind  that  rose  the  picturesque  old  northern  wall 
of  the  fortress,  climbing  the  verdurous  hillside  in  suc- 
cessive steps,  with  ivy-grown  towers. 

Continuing  northward  on  this  same  street,  through 
a  block  of  decayed  stucco  dwellings,  I  reached  at  its  end 
a  cross-street,  up  which,  to  the  right,  was  seen  an 
ornamental  yellow-sandstone  gateway  of  the  Renais- 
sance; behind  this  a  charming  shady  avenue  extended 
up  the  hillside,  here  increased  in  height,  and  covered 
with  verdant  terraces  and  stately  groves.  Amidst  these 
bowers  a  large  villa  was  glimpsed  to  the  left,  and 
near  by  a  marble  bust  of  Carducci  gleamed  against  a 
sylvan  background.  It  seemed,  in  the  noon-heat,  like 
a  vista  of  paradise,  blissful  with  its  warblings  of  count- 
less unseen  birds.  It  was  —  so  a  passer-by  told  me 
—  the  Villa  Benvenuti,  celebrated  for  its  beautiful 
views  across  the  plain,  as  far  as  the  Apennines 
and  the  snowy  Alps.  The  proprietors,  unfortunately, 
chanced  to  be  away,  so  that  I  could  not  procure 
admission. 

Turning  westward  upon  this  cross-street,  and  pass- 
ing the  Via  Cavour,  upon  which  my  inn  was  located. 
I  reached  an  enormous  red  brick  church  on  the  right 
side  of  the  way,  of  strange  oval  form,  with  a  false 
front  rising  to  three-quarter  height,  left  rough  for  a 

taring  never  put  on.  It  was  the  (  'alhedral  of  S.  Tecla. 
Attached  to  its  rear  was  a  tall,  rounded  choir  chapel, 
seen    from    One   side.      The    facade    held    three   oblong 

doorways,  simply  framed  in  marble,  and  twounframed 


524  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

square  windows  over  the  side  portals.  At  the  left 
rear  soared  the  handsome  briek  campanile  to  a  great 
height,  smoothly  faced  without  windows,  but  with  an 
unfinished  belfry  of  two  arches  per  side;  before  this 
stood  a  small  stuccoed  structure,  of  baroque  lines  and 
reddish  hue,  covering  the  side  entrance.  The  baroque 
interior  I  visited  later:  its  form,  of  a  lofty  oval  rotunda 
capped  by  a  flat  dome,  is  peculiar  but  effective;  a  large 
oval  fresco  adorns  the  centre  of  the  domed  roof,  from 
which  radiating  ribs  descend  to  a  gallery  upon  the 
cornice,  running  beneath  the  five  oblong  windows 
there  inserted  on  each  side;  over  the  main  doorway 
is  a  rich  oaken  music-loft,  flamboyantly  carved,  de- 
corated on  the  bottom  with  six  paintings  in  baroque 
frames;  opposite  opens  the  choir,  through  an  arch 
nearly  as  lofty  as  the  dome,  its  square  recess  having 
a  separate  cupola,  and  an  apse  four  times  taller  than 
its  width.  Five  depressed  archways  run  along  each 
side  of  the  nave,  three  of  them  holding  altars,  the  fourth 
holding  a  pulpit  on  one  hand,  the  side  entrance  on  the 
other,  and  the  fifth  framing  a  chapel  on  each  hand 
beside  the  choir  ;  between  these  archways  ascend 
Corinthian  pilasters  to  the  high  cornice,  which  con- 
tinue also  around  the  choir. 

The  paintings  were  poor,  with  two  exceptions:  the 
high-altar  piece  was  an  exceptionally  fine  work  of 
Gian  Battista  Tiepolo,  —  a  huge  canvas  represent- 
ing Este  prostrate  under  the  plague,  and  the  demons 
of  the  latter  being  driven  away  by  the  Almighty, 
thanks  to  the  prayers  of  Santa  Tecla;  her  upturned, 
imploring  countenance  was  very  holy  and  beautiful, 
and  the  dramatic  disposition  and  action  were  quite 
successful.  On  the  third  altar  to  the  left  stood  a  simi- 
lar, smaller  work,  of  golden  tone,  but  poor  in  facial 
beauty  save  for  the  enchanting  swarm  of  putti  around 


ESTE  525 

the  Father.  The  baptismal  font  of  solid  porphyry  was 
also  noteworthy. 

The  second  morning  I  devoted  to  the  Museum, 
which  proved  surprisingly  rich  in  Roman  and  pre- 
Roman  relics.  The  ground-floor  vestibule  contained 
two  interesting  sculptures  of  the  duecento,  evidently 
the  supports  of  holy-water  basins;  the  one  portraying 
a  bearded  saint,  the  other  holding  three  figures  back 
to  back,  in  three-quarter  relief,  —  Adam,  Eve,  and  the 
female  tempter.  The  latter  piece  was  truly  remarkable. 
Mounting  the  grand  staircase  of  Mocenigo's  period, 
I  inspected  several  spacious  halls  filled  with  remains 
of  the  stone  and  bronze  ages,  —  with  cases  of  imple- 
ments of  every  nature,  and  many  vases  of  great  value; 
the  famed  "graffiti"  vases  were  specially  noticeable; 
also  those  studded  with  blue  nails,  and  the  earliest 
ceramics  in  red  and  black.  These  Pelasgian  relics  are 
not  surpassed  anywhere,  and  constitute  a  revelation 
of  the  handicrafts  of  that  mysterious  race  which  ante- 
dated the  Etruscans, —  the  same  that  built  the  Cyclo- 
pean walls  of  Spoleto  and  Amelia.1 

On  the  ground  story  I  was  then  shown  two  halls  of 
artistic  Roman  remains,  all  —  like  the  prehistoric  ob- 
jects above  —  discovered  in  this  neighborhood,  and 
together  establishing  its  occupation  by  civilized 
communities  for  thirty  centuries  past.  The  numerous 
bronzes  of  Lat in  culture,  including  several  heads  finely 
individualized  and  expressive,  the  excellent  glassware, 
with  specimens  of  Egyptian  style,  and  especially  the 
superior  mosaics,  all  indicated  a  Roman  settlement  of 

large  size  and  wealth,  corresponding  to  the  reports  of 

history.     Mosaic-work,  it  appears,  was  a  prominent 

industry  of  A.teste,  which  was  long  famed  l'«»r  its  deli- 

-..//,//  Towns  of  Italy,  —  Spoleto  and  Amelia;  the  Etruscan  Mu- 
seum <>f  Perugia. 


526  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

cate  materials  and  artistic  productions.  Quite  a  num- 
ber of  their  sarcophagi  and  cinerary  urns  also  were 
here,  dug  up  in  the  adjacent  necropolis.  There  was 
further  a  large  quantity  of  the  anterior  Etruscan 
relics,  including  many  good  vases,  —  though  not  equal 
to  the  collections  of  Perugia  and  central  Italy.1 

During  the  afternoons  I  sought  out  three  interesting 
short  walks  from  the  piazza.  One  led  southward  on  the 
main  street,  investigating  the  heterogeneous  variations 
in  its  old  arcades  and  polychromatic  houses,  which 
showed  every  sort  of  pier,  column,  and  pillar,  some- 
times colonnaded  without  arches,  and  reflecting  the 
changes  of  twenty  generations.  Thus  I  reached  the 
ancient,  ruinous  Church  of  S.  Martino,  on  the  right 
of  the  way,  surmounted  by  a  picturesque  leaning  tower 
in  the  centre.  It  appeared  parallel  with  the  street, 
behind  a  little  close,  and  exhibited  traces  of  vanished 
frescoing.  The  nave  was  extremely  low  and  gabled, 
its  narrow  arched  entrance  being  framed  by  two  pil- 
asters and  a  cornice;  to  the  left  of  the  tottering  tower 
was  a  Lombard  drum  upon  the  roof,  with  a  Roman- 
esque, arcaded,  brick  cornice.  This  edifice  must  come 
from  at  least  the  thirteenth  century.  Its  interior  is 
said  to  be  modernized  and  uninteresting;  but  it  was 
filled  with  scaffolding  for  repairs,  and  I  could  not 
enter. 

Another  stroll  was  westward  from  the  piazza's 
northern  end,  along  the  broad,  arcaded  Via  Vittorio 
Emanuele,  which  soon  narrowed  to  a  fantastic  stuc- 
coed tower  of  Renaissance  days,  spanning  the  street 
with  a  stone  archway  through  its  ground  story.  The 
latter  was  heavily  rusticated,  the  second  story  held 
a  huge  clock-face,  and  the  third  was  an  open  belfry 
of  double  arches,  framed  by  rusticated  Doric  pilasters 

1  Ilill-Towns  of  Italy. 


ESTE  527 

of  pinkish  hue,  and  topped  by  forked  battlements. 
It  was  the  Porta  Vecchia,  —  a  city  gate,  and  at  the 
same  time  the  city  clock-  and  bell-tower;  its  erection 
took  place,  according  to  an  inscription,  in  the  year 
1690.  Just  beyond  it  flowed  the  old  city  moat,  still 
a  broad  and  freshly  running  stream,  arched  by  a 
heavy  bridge;  it  was  the  Frussine,  which  rises  in  the 
Valdagno.1  The  brick  garden  walls  extending  along 
its  eastern  bank  to  the  right  and  left,  were  the  only 
remains  of  the  quondam  ramparts.  To  the  west  for 
some  distance  stretched  the  later  quarter  of  the  town, 
several  blocks  wide  and  long. 

To  the  left  of  the  Porta  Vecchia,  within,  stood  the 
small  baroque  Church  of  S.  Rocco,  with  a  queer 
Byzantine-domed  campanile  like  a  minaret;  beside  it 
ran  the  narrow  Via  Monache  southward,  just  inside 
the  former  town  wall,  lined  by  a  series  of  mouldering 
dwellingsof  vast  age,  with  exterior  corbelled  chimneys. 
At  its  end  rose  the  dismantled  old  Church  of  the 
Archangel  Gabriel,  from  which  another  ancient  way, 
the  Via  S.  Rocco,  ran  east  between  crumbling  ar- 
cades to  the  Munieipio;  the  Gothic  arches  showed  their 
longevity.  Seldom  anywhere  have  I  seen  a  quarter 
more  forlornly  aged  and  picturesquely  decrepit. 

The  third  walk  was  westward  into  the  newer  sec- 
tion, along  the  street  of  the  Duomo,  through  another 
former  city  gate.  Inquiries  brought  me  to  the  Chicsa 
dei  Socqui,  or  S.  Maria  delle  Consolazioni;  in  which 
large  and  queerly  shaped  edifice  I  found  a  splendid 
gem  of  painting,  —  a  most  beautiful  specimen  of  Cima 

1  Vide  the  end  of  chapter  iv.  It  is  formed  by  the  junction,  Dear  Mon- 
tecchio,  <>f  tin-  Al'iih  and  two  other  streams.  Somewhat  northwest  of  Bste 
it  is  joined  by  the  Liana,  from  Monti  Berici,  whose  northern  branch  was 
originally  the  main  outlel  of  the  Bacchiglione,  and  was  on  several  occasions 
utilised  by  the  Vlcentines,  when  al  war  with  the  Paduans,  for  an  entire 

diversion  this  way  of  the  Bacchiglione's  water.    See  chapter  ii. 


VJS  PLAIN  TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

da  Conegliano.  It  was  a  panel  of  the  Madonna  hold- 
ing her  Child,  dressed  as  a  nun  and  seated  before  a 
dark  curtain,  with  a  slight  vista  of  Cima's  beloved 
mountains  on  the  left.  The  babe  looks  appealingly  into 
the  sad,  tender  face  of  the  mother,  who  bends  her  head 
to  him  lovingly  and  thoughtfully;  —  a  scene  of  the 
truest  simplicity  and  swTeetest  sentiment.  And,  for- 
tunately, it  is  still  in  good  preservation. 

Another  and  very  pleasant  walk,  or  rather  climb, 
affording  inspiring  views  across  the  plain,  is  that  to 
the  village  mentioned  as  located  halfway  up  the  hill- 
side. This  may  be  prolonged,  by  trained  pedestrians, 
through  the  saddle  with  the  other  village,  and  over 
the  hills  to  Arqua,  the  home  of  Petrarch,  which  is 
about  seven  miles  distant  on  the  southeastern  slopes 
of  the  Euganai;  or  the  journey  may  be  taken  by 
carriage,  —  a  delightful  drive,  which  can  be  finished 
at  Battaglia  or  Monselice.  Arqua  is  but  five  miles 
from  either  of  the  latter  places,  so  that  the  excursion 
to  it  is  usually  performed  from  one  of  them,  —  pre- 
ferably Battaglia.  That  was  my  plan;  so  the  third 
morning  found  me  again  aboard  an  early  train,  on  my 
way  to  Monselice,  which  I  was  resolved  to  visit  in 
that  one  day,  and  reach  a  comfortable  hotel  at  Ro- 
vigo  by  nightfall. 

Monselice  (the  Mons  Silicis  of  the  Romans),  another 
town  of  eleven  thousand  inhabitants,  owes  its  modern 
importance  to  being  the  junction  of  the  railway  from 
Mantua  with  the  main  line  from  Bologna  to  Padua; 
also  to  its  location  at  the  head  of  the  Battaglia  Canal 
to  Padua,  —  to  feed  which  a  part  of  the  waters  of  the 
Frussine  are  diverted  eastward  along  the  foot  of  the 
hills.  But  in  olden  times  Monselice  was  far  more  im- 
portant, because  the  protecting  castle  which  gave  it 
being   was   until   the   days   of   modern   cannon   the 


MOXSELICE  529 

acknowledged  key  to  the  whole  region,  and  the  chief 
defense  of  Padua  upon  the  south;  its  position  was  prac- 
tically invulnerable,  upon  an  isolated  rocky  pinnacle 
five  hundred  feet  high,  —  at  the  foot  of  whose  slope 
the  town  collected.  This  crag  rises  just  opposite  the 
southeastern  angle  of  the  Euganean  Range,  from 
which  it  is  divided  by  only  a  narrow  pass;  and  with  its 
crowning,  castellated  ruins,  is  a  familiar  memory  to 
all  travelers  approaching  Venice  from  the  south.  Tas- 
soni  wrote  of  it  long  ago:  — 

Vien  poi  Monselice,  in  contra  l'armi  e  1  sacchi 
Sicuro  gia  per  frode  e  per  battaglia. 

In  former  times,  therefore,  the  first  object  of  all 
captains  seeking  to  conquer  the  Polesine,  or  the  dis- 
trict of  Padua,  was  the  reduction  of  this  formidable 
fortress.1  Padua  was  once  actually  its  dependency, 
under  the  Lombard  seigneurs  of  the  seventh  century. 
It  belonged  from  the  ninth  century  to  the  Marquises 
of  Este,  and  was  consequently  an  object  of  ceaseless 
contention  on  the  part  of  the  Paduans,  who  dreaded 
its  eternal  menace,  and  often  sought  to  capture  it  by 
force  or  stratagem.  This  was  finally  effected  by  Ezze- 
lino  in  V2'M,  we  know  not  how,  when  he  was  over- 
running tin'  territory  prior  to  taking  Padua  herself; 
and  the  castle's  seizure  was  the  signal  for  the  city's 

1  Tin-  Romans  bad  a  stronghold  <>n  this  height,  and  doubtless  the  (Vita 
and  Etruscans  before  them;  the  same  foundations  endured  through  all  the 

-.  and  still  exist.  Having  passed  through  the  hands  of  tli<'  Ostrogoths, 
inti)  those  of  Narses  and  the  Byzantines,  it  was  desperately  held  by  the 
latter  against  the  Lombards  for  thirty-four  years  after  their  arrival  on  the 
plain,  constituting  thus  practically  the  last  point  in  Italy  over  which 
Boated  the  Bag  of  the  Eastern  Empire,  At  last,  in  602,  the  Lombards  sue- 

led  in  effecting  its  capture,  but  only  it  is  believed  —  afteralong- 
drawn-oul  siege  which  won  its  way  through  hunger.  I  pun  the  conquest 
of  Charlemagne  the  castle  became  the  property  of  the  Bsteusi,  because  he 
madi-  them  Ins  feudatory  lords  of  the  whole  district. 


530  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

yielding.  The  Estensi  never  forgave  this  wrong,  nor 
rested  till  they  had  brought  Ezzelino  low,  and  recov- 
ered their  fortress;  but  about  the  end  of  that  century 
they  lost  it  again,  to  the  Paduans,  during  the  disasters 
of  Azzo  VIII  and  Fresco.  The  commune  did  not  long 
enjoy  its  coveted  possession,  for  Can  Grande  dellaScala 
descended  upon  the  city  in  1317,  and  "  Monselice,  the 
key  of  the  defense  of  Padua,  was  taken  by  Delia  Scala 
through  the  bribery  and  cowardice  of  the  garrison. 
One  by  one  all  the  castles  of  the  district  came  into  his 
hands";1  he  manned  them  with  powerful  garrisons, 
and  held  them  till  the  city  gave  in. 

When  the  Delia  Carrara,  with  the  aid  of  their  allies, 
recovered  Padua  from  the  weak  grasp  of  Mastino  II, 
in  1337,  "only  the  castle  of  Monselice  remained  to 
the  Scalas;  and  soon  Marsilio  (della  Carrara)  and  the 
Rossi  besieged  it  as  the  most  strategic  point  in  the 
territory.  It  was,  moreover,  the  key  to  the  Polesine 
and  part  of  the  lagoons,  and  therefore  of  great  political 
importance.  But  the  fortress  withstood  all  attacks, 
and  only  surrendered  to  Ubertino  a  year  later,"  2 
presumably  from  famine.  In  due  course  thereafter  it 
passed,  with  Padua,  into  the  strong  hands  of  Venice, 
which  held  it  until  gunpowder  had  annihilated  its 
importance;  whereupon  it  was  suffered  to  decay. 

It  was  only  about  a  twenty  minutes'  ride  from  Este, 
straight  east  along  the  foot  of  the  hills,  accompanied  by 
the  slender  branch  of  the  Frussine  on  the  left ;  the  curv- 
ing lofty  slopes,  hardly  a  mile  away,  never  looked  more 
beautiful,  in  their  variegated  blanket  of  green  fields 
and  yellow  foliage,  combined  with  the  livelier  glisten 
of  white-walled  villages.  We  joined  the  main  line,  turned 
nortli  upon  it,  and  running  a  short  distance  between 
the  hills  and  the  precipitous  crag  of  Monselice,  which 

1  Cesare  Foligno,  Story  of  Padua.  2  Ibid. 


MONSELICE  531 

now  appeared  on  the  right,  stopped  at  its  station,  to 
the  northwest  of  the  town.  Depositing  my  luggage, 
I  at  once  walked  down  the  tree-lined  highway  of  ap- 
proach, which  wound  toward  the  southwestern  base 
of  the  mighty  rock;  its  western  face  was  sheer  preci- 
pice for  the  first  two  or  three  hundred  feet,  showing 
the  bright  feldspathic  stone  uncovered  by  vegetation, 
which  made  the  ruined  fortress  on  the  pointed  summit 
appear  quite  inaccessible.  No  one  could  here  discern 
that  the  other  sides  were  gentle,  verdurous  declivities. 
I  reached  that  reminder  of  ancient  civilization,  still 
in  excellent  condition,  —  the  Battaglia  Canal,  —  and 
saw  before  me  the  old  western  city  wall,  stretching 
along  its  farther  bank;  this  was  built  of  stone,  and 
still  preserved  its  grim  battlements,  and  shattered 
towers  rising  at  intervals.  Shortly  to  the  left  it  ended 
at  the  northwestern  bastion,  whence  I  saw  the  north- 
ern rampart  running  east  toward  the  rock.  The  former 
city  gate, —  if  there  was  any,  —  at  the  end  of  the 
bridge  which  I  now  traversed,  had  entirely  vanished. 
One  block  to  the  east  I  reached  the  main  street, 
running  south  to  the  town's  centre;  this  was  the  Via 
Umberto  I,  lined  by  three-storied  stucco  houses  with- 
out arcades,  with  a  modern  look  because  of  repainting; 
but  the  colors  here  had  not  the  vividness  of  Este  and 
Montagnana.  A  few  minutes  more  brought  me  to  a 
striking  Renaissance  palazzo,  rising  to  the  left  on  the 
first  incline  of  the  hill,  opposite  a  short  arcade  filled 
with  shops  ami  caffes;  it  was  a  stuccoed  edifice  with 
curious,  heavy,  gray-Stone  trimmings,  and  faced  by  a 
colonnaded  portico  of  the  latter  material.    To  the  left 

of  the  portico  opened  ;i  massive,  rusticated,  arched  por- 
tal, twenty  feet  high,  and  across  the  first  floor  stretched 
an  enormously  heavy,  balustraded,  stone  balcony, 
fully  forty  feel   long.     Immediately  beyond  came  the 


5S2  PLAIN-TOWNS   OF  ITALY 

central  cross-roads,  whose  left  arm  climbed  the  hill- 
side  in  steps  for  fifty  yards,  between  the  Palazzo  Muni- 
cipale  on  its  left  and  the  Monte  di  Pieta  on  its  right. 
The  former  was  a  simple  stucco  building,  entered  by 
its  right  side,  from  the  steps,  holding  beside  the  portal 
a  tablet  to  Garibaldi  adorned  with  dainty  bronze 
foliage;  another  tablet,  on  the  front,  was  inscribed  to 
Yittorio  Emanuele  II,  saying  that  he  carried  the 
Italian  arms  here  on  August  1,  1866,  and  concluding 
rhapsodically,  —  "Oh!  Momento!  —  Dieci  lustri  di 
lutti  e  catene  —  vendicati!"1 

This  was  a  remarkably  picturesque  spot.  The  build- 
ing of  the  Monte  di  Pieta  bore  on  its  second  story  a 
charming  Renaissance  loggia,  three  arches  wide  and 
two  bays  deep,  approached  by  a  handsome  open 
stairway  of  two  flights,  —  all  in  creamy  stucco,  with 
gray  sandstone  trimmings;  and  in  its  side  wall  it  held  a 
graceful  double-arched  window,  with  a  balustrade  and 
diamond  bars.  The  broad  street-stairway  mounted 
past  the  latter,  to  the  face  of  an  imposing  Gothic 
palace  fifty  yards  up  the  steep  slope,  before  which  it 
turned  abruptly  to  the  right,  and  continued  ascending 
southeastward.  The  piano  nobile  of  the  palace  con- 
tained a  stately  row  of  six  double-arched  trefoil 
windows,  on  a  body  of  red  and  creamy  blocks 
formed  into  large  diamonds;  over  its  roof  rose  a  grand 
old  battlemented  stone  tower,  and  far  above  that 
soared  the  precipitous  hillside,  to  its  castellated  peak. 

Turning  round  from  this  vista,  I  saw  the  central 
Piazza  Yittorio  Emanuele  extending  eastward,  and 
then  south,  in  the  shape  of  a  broad  "L";  lined  on  the 
right  side  by  mouldering  stucco  arcades  and  houses, 
and  dominated  by  the  picturesque  old  city  clock-tower 

1  "Oli!  Illustrious  Moment!  —  Fifty  years  of  sorrows  and  chains  — 
revenged!" 


MONSELICE  533 

at  the  farther  end.  This  was  also  of  crumbling  stucco, 
with  no  opening  below  its  belfry  of  triple  arches, 
crowned  bv  forked  battlements;  before  its  base  curved 
a  graceful  white  loggia  of  Renaissance  design,  orna- 
mented with  Corinthian  half-columns  between  the 
arches.  To  its  left,  after  two  buildings,  was  visible  a 
section  of  the  ancient  city  wall  close  behind,  of  the  im- 
pressive height  of  three  full  stories.  The  piazza  was 
well  flagged  in  gray  stone,  and  the  aged  edifices  round- 
about were  gayly  colored  in  soft  tints  of  pink,  lavender 
rose,  orange,  and  vermilion. 

I  followed  the  Via  Umberto  farther  southward, 
through  arcades  on  the  right  hand  only,  to  another  and 
smaller  piazza,  of  triangular  form,  where  the  main 
street  forked ;  one  branch  continuing  along  the  south- 
ern base  of  the  hill,  the  other  running  southward  to 
Rovigo;  each  leading  between  simple  houses,  soon 
broken  by  shady  gardens  of  villas.  To  the  left  here 
rose  a  ponderous  Renaissance  palazzo  of  four  stories, 
resting  upon  an  arcade  of  heavy  square  stone  pillars, 
with  equally  heavy  balustrades,  fancifully  wrought 
in  sandstone  or  cement,  adorning  all  the  round-arched 
windows.  Clearly  the  aristocracy  of  this  place  in 
Venetian  days  were  families  of  much  wealth.  Return- 
ing to  the  main  piazza,  I  climbed  the  street-stairs  up 
the  hillside,  veering  southward  before  the  Gothic 
palace,  where  the  w;iy  became  a  sloping  promenade. 
The  huge  grim  tower  behind  the  palace  proved  lobe 
a  Gothic  dwelling  itself,  very  aged  and  ruinous,  its 
windows  mostly  blocked  or  boarded  up;  it  was — so 
I  learned  — the  ancient  Palazzo  Mareello  of  eventful 
history,  where  the  Princes  of  Kste  used  to  reside 
when  staving  in  the  town.  Whether  they  erected  it  I 
could  nol  ascertain;  but  from  their  possession  it  passed 
to  other  noble  families,  who  have  occupied  it  to  the 


584  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

present  time.  Its  owner  now  is  the  Contessa  Geraldi; 
but  so  dilapidated  litis  its  whole  strueture  recently 
become,  through  vast  age,  that  she  usually  resides 
in  another  palace  on  the  plain.  The  interior  is  said 
to  be  still  richly  furnished,  with  many  memorials  of 
its  historic  past. 

Beyond  its  grounds  came  those  of  some  hidden 
villa,  stretching  up  the  steep  slope  to  the  left  in  a  wood 
of  young  trees,  with  cultivated  turf,  amongst  whose 
groves  a  balustraded  white  terrace  was  discernible, 
crested  by  gleaming  statues;  while  a  long  dark  file  of 
pointed  cypresses  descended  along  the  farther  bound- 
ary. Here,  then,  I  was  turning  the  southwestern  angle 
of  the  hill,  and  reaching  its  more  gentle  and  arboreous 
declines;  the  way  continued  always  upward,  curving 
gradually  to  the  left,  with  more  precipitous  descents 
upon  the  right.  Via  Duomo,  it  was  named;  for  it  led 
to  the  Cathedral.  Four  contiguous  medieval  buildings 
of  strange  design  now  appeared,  the  last  two  shaped 
like  battlemented  towers,  with  other  towers  attached 
irregularly  to  their  rear;  it  was  evidently  once  a  forti- 
fied manor,  though  now  inhabited  by  families  of  the 
poorest  class.  There  followed  a  high  stuccoed  wall, 
crowned  with  the  most  droll  and  eccentric  stone  stat- 
ues of  misshapen  dwarfs,  in  a  long  row,  with  enormous, 
grimacing  heads  and  humped  backs;  a  fine  Renaissance 
archway,  framed  in  Doric  columns,  permitted  a  vista 
of  a  very  long  stairway  of  many  flights,  flanked  every 
few  feet  by  stone  statues  in  couples,  leading  straight- 
away through  a  greenwood  to  a  far  ornamental  grotto ; 
this  was  adorned  with  Doric  columns  and  statuary 
upon  its  face,  and  topped  by  a  balustrade  with  more 
statues,  —  a  fair  sight,  indeed,  against  the  sylvan 
background.  To  the  right  of  it  appeared  a  decaying 
stucco  palazzo  of  the  Renaissance,  the  successor  of 


MONSELICE  535 

the  medieval  stronghold  just  passed,  and  the  seat  — 
as  I  was  told  —  of  the  Conti  Nani.  The  dwarfs  were, 
therefore,  a  play  upon  the  family  name.1 

On  the  right  hand  here,  there  extended  a  little  shady 
terrace,  whose  parapet  overlooked  the  streets  of  the 
town  below,  lying  amidst  a  sea  of  dying  foliage;  across 
the  luxuriant  plain  Este  was  clearly  visible,  with  the 
towers  of  its  ruined  castle.  TheDuomo  next  appeared, 
upon  a  similar  and  broader  terrace,  rising  behind  a 
paved  court  with  its  left  side  to  the  road,  —  a  singular 
location  for  the  principal  church  of  the  town.  It  was  a 
fair-sized,  stuccoed  edifice,  decorated  with  brick  pilas- 
ter-strips, an  arcaded  cornice  along  the  gable,  and  a 
porch  over  the  single  doorway  consisting  of  detached 
marble  columns  sustaining  a  rounded  stucco  archway. 
Its  interior,  I  found,  had  been  entirely  remodeled:  the 
low  broad  nave  was  without  aisles  or  transept,  and 
freshly  whitewashed;  over  an  altar  against  the  right 
wall  stood  a  quaint  early  polyptich,  showing  S.  Gius- 
tina  among  six  other  saints,  —  retouched  out  of  recog- 
nition of  the  original  work;  a  second  and  later  picture 
of  S.  Giustina  —  the  church's  patron  —  hung  between 
the  windows  of  the  little  choir,  —  a  well  moulded, 
rather  prepossessing  figure,  of  the  later  Venetian 
school.  The  under  side  of  the  high-altar  canopy  had  a 
still  better  painting,  in  the  style  of  Palma  Vecchio,  re- 
present ing  t  he  Almighty  in  clouds,  surrounded  by  piitti, 
with  his  right  hand  outstretched  in  benediction;  and 
over  the  altar  to  the  left  of  the  choir  was  a  pleasing 
rinfjuecentoYenctum  panel,  of  tlie  Madonna  and  Child, 
uninjured  by  any  retouching.  The  authors  of  these 
works  appeared  to  be  unknown. 

On  continuing  beyond  the  Duorno,  its  fine  old  cam- 
panile was  revealedi  a1  a  rear  corner,  rising  in  live  divi- 

1  "Nani"  is  tlir  Italian  word  for  dwarfs. 


536  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

sions  of  red  brick,  with  as  many  arcaded  cornices,  and 
a  double-arched  battlemented  belfry.  Here  the  high- 
way ended  at  a  Renaissance  gateway,  whose  stone 
pillars  were  crowned  by  huge  sculptured  lions;  behind 
which  opened  a  terrace  with  a  bayed  stone  parapet, 
commanding  a  wide  view;  at  its  back  a  white  stuccoed 
archway  admitted  me  to  a  private  road  extending  on 
upward  along  the  southern  face  of  the  hill,  with  the 
stone  parapet  on  its  right  and  a  row  of  seven  white 
chapels  at  regular  intervals  on  the  left,  rising  upon 
flights  of  steps.  These  were  backed  and  separated  by 
a  line  of  delightful  old  cypresses.  At  the  end  loomed 
a  huge  mass  of  buildings  perched  on  a  projecting  crag, 
behind  which  the  ancient  city  wall  descended  steeply 
from  the  fortress  to  the  plain. 

The  walk  had  assumed  a  character  of  fascinating, 
unique  beauty;  the  view  was  an  inspiration:  sprinkled 
afar  through  the  sea  of  verdure  below  were  gleaming 
towns  and  villages  surmounted  by  their  campanili, 
interspersed  with  the  countless  red  tiles  and  white 
walls  of  separate  farmhouses,  ensconced  in  groves  of 
poplars  and  cypresses,  looking  very  serene  and  bliss- 
ful in  the  warm  golden  sunlight.  Directly  below  lay 
the  square,  walled  cemetery  of  Monselice,  cypress- 
bound,  with  its  shining  chapels,  stones,  and  monu- 
ments; and  straightaway  to  the  distant  south,  like  a 
plumb-line,  extended  the  ancient  highway  to  Rovigo, 
—  a  splendid,  unending  avenue  of  tall  golden  maples  or 
plane  trees.   I  felt  like  Rogers,  when  he  cried :  — 

The  promised  land 
Lies  at  my  feet  in  all  its  loveliness.  — 
And  lo!  the  sun  is  shining;  and  the  lark 
Singing  aloud  for  joy,  —  to  him  is  not 
Such  sudden  ravishment  as  now  I  feel 
At  the  first  glimpse  of  fair  Italy!  l 

1  Rogers,  Italy. 


MONSELICE  537 

The  chapels  contained  only  little  cubicles,  with  sim- 
ple altars,  surmounted  each  by  an  old  canvas  portrait 
of  a  saint;  but  over  them  were  prettily  draped  thick 
curtains  of  honeysuckle  vines.  At  the  top  of  the  ascent 
opened  a  flowered  courtyard,  backed  by  a  handsome 
Renaissance  palace  covered  with  columns  and  statu- 
ary, having  a  dark  Gothic  tower  at  its  left  end.  It  was 
the  Villa  Valier,  formerly  Duodo;  owned  for  centuries 
by  the  Conti  Duodo,  but  now  passed  by  the  marriage 
of  a  surviving  daughter  to  the  historic  Venetian  family 
of  Balbi- Valier.  It  had  a  stuccoed  facade  of  1740, 
with  trimmings  and  sculptures  of  gray  and  light-brown 
stone;  the  three  arched  portals  below  and  the  windows 
above  were  all  flanked  by  pairs  of  half-columns  em- 
bracing niches  with  statues;  and  rectangular  panels  of 
varied  reliefs  extended  above  the  niches.  On  the  right 
stood  the  small  private  church  of  the  villa,  with  its 
apse  on  the  very  verge  of  the  abyss,  —  a  glistening 
white  edifice  with  yellow  garniture,  faced  by  a  three- 
arched  portico,  and  topped  by  a  cupola  and  a  slender 
campanile',  it  was  connected  with  the  mansion  by  the 
latter's  projecting  right  wing. 

The  strange  sight  was  upon  the  left:  here  there  rose 
a  high  balustraded  stone  terrace,  approached  at  the 
ends  by  two  heavy  opposing  stairways,  topped  by 
giant  statues,  —  between  which  opened  a  triple- 
arched  grotto;  behind  it  mounted  a  very  broad  and 
lofty  flight  of  steps,  to  another  terrace  adorned  with  an 
artificial  pyramid  of  rough  rocks,  backed  by  a  semicir- 
cular pink  wall  containing  a  row  of  empty  niches  and 
crowned  by  a  row  of  statues.  The  hollow  pyramid 
held  a  shrine  dedicated  to  St.  Francis  of  Assisi;  hence 

the  whole  queer  construction  La  called  the  "Grotta  di 
S.  Francesco."  Above  it  soared  the  steep  upper  hill- 
side, covered  with  vines,  to  the   ruinous  circular  en- 


538  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

ceinture  of  the  castle,  within  which  naught  remained 
but  the  empty,  massive  donjon.  A  long  straight  flight 
of  narrow  steps  climbed  to  it,  at  the  left  side  of  the 
Grotta,  entered  by  a  locked  iron  wicket;  all  this  sum- 
mit of  the  hill  belongs  now  to  the  Conte  Valier,  with- 
out whose  permission  one  cannot  ascend,  —  and  at 
present  he  was  away.  To  the  left  of  the  wicket  ex- 
tended another  wall,  beautifully  overgrown  with  vines, 
containing  three  niches  with  marble  busts  of  the  last 
Counts  of  Duodo. 

The  custodian  of  the  place,  who  had  now  appeared, 
conducted  me  through  the  little  church,  which  was 
erected,  he  said,  about  1G00.  It  was  a  graceful  edifice, 
decorated  with  some  taste  and  in  perfect  repair;  but  the 
only  noteworthy  feature  was  the  presence  of  twenty- 
five  mummified  martyrs,  —  that  is,  early  Roman 
Christians,  —  who  were  dug  out  of  the  Catacombs  by 
Pope  Paul  V,  about  1607,  and  sent  to  the  Conte  Duodo 
of  that  day  as  an  invaluable  gift.  They  reposed  in  cof- 
fins with  glass  sides,  inserted  in  the  walls  of  the  little 
nave;  and  were  one  and  all  dressed  in  the  gaudiest, 
cheapest  "circus-clothes,"  ornamented  with  an  abund- 
ance of  tinsel  and  gilt  fringe,  —  the  tawdry  breeches, 
stockings,  and  coat-arms  being  slit,  to  expose  the  des- 
sicated  limbs.  The  withered  toes  were  purposely  pro- 
truded from  the  shoes,  but  the  hands  were  inclosed  in 
coarse  white  gloves,  —  the  right  holding  the  palm- 
leaf  of  martyrdom,  the  left  the  cup  of  the  Vinum  San- 
guines. Above  the  ridiculous  gilt  epaulettes  and  neck- 
gauds  projected  the  grinning,  eyeless,  fleshless  skulls; 
which  combined  with  the  childish  finery  and  exposed 
limb-bones  to  render  the  whole  exhibit  at  once  lud- 
icrous, horrible,  and  repulsive. 

As  for  the  palace,  I  was  obliged  to  be  satisfied  with 
the  information  that  it  was  furnished  in  a  style  of 


MONSELICE  539 

"royal  magnificence."  So  I  returned  to  the  town, 
procured  a  very  late  lunch,  and  catching  a  south- 
ward train  about  5  p.m.,  arrived  well  before  sunset 
at  the  pleasant  old  inn  of  the  "Corona  Ferrea"  in 
Rovigo. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

ROVIGO,    ARQUA,    AND    BATTAGLIA 

I  leave  thee,  beauteous  Italy!  —  no  more 
From  the  high  terraces  at  eventide 
To  look  supine  into  thy  depths  of  sky,  — 
Thy  golden  moon  between  the  elitf  and  me, 
Or  the  dark  spires  of  fretted  cypresses 
Bordering  the  channel  of  the  milky  way. 

—  Walter  Savage  Landor. 

There  seems  to  be  a  peculiar  natural  law  amongst 
northern  Italians  that  restricts  their  small  cities  to  be- 
tween ten  and  eleven  thousand  population.  Rovigo  is 
still  another  of  its  numerous  examples.  This  is  surpris- 
ing, because  Rovigo  has  the  history,  the  reputation, 
and  the  appearance  of  a  considerably  larger  town.  It 
is  the  stately  capital  of  a  province,  and  of  the  whole 
region  of  the  PoLesine,  —  located  about  fifteen  miles 
south  of  Monselice,  three  miles  south  of  the  Adige, 
and  ten  north  of  the  Po,  upon  the  canalized  stream 
called  the  Naviglio  Adigetto,  which  lends  to  the  place 
a  sort  of  Venetian  aspect.  Its  history,  its  extent,  its 
palaces,  churches,  monuments,  and  artistic  riches,  all 
indicate  a  past  in  which  it  was  a  much  larger  city,  of 
influence  and  coveted  wealth.  Its  origin  goes  back 
beyond  Roman  times,  when  the  Latin  name  of  the 
town  —  from  which  the  Italian  is  derived  —  was 
Rhodigium,  whose  flowery  significance  bespeaks  the 
fertility  of  the  soil.  Ariosto  mentioned  it,  in  the  Or- 
lando Furioso,  canto  xli,  — 

And  that  fair  town,  whose  produce  is  the  rose, 
The  rose  which  gives  its  name  in  Grecian  speech. 


< 

V. 

< 

u 

a 

Y. 


-1 


ROYIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLIA     541 

By  situation  the  centre  and  natural  metropolis  of 
that  fertile  district,  Rovigo  was  certainly  during  the 
Middle  Ages  the  most  opulent  and  cherished  town  of 
the  Estensi,  and  following  their  removal  to  Ferrara, 
remained  first  in  their  possessions,  after  Modena  and 
Reggio.  In  1308  it  was  seized  from  the  unfortunate 
Fresco  by  his  uncle  Francesco,  through  a  coup  de  main, 
and  sold  at  once  by  the  latter  to  Padua;  nine  years 
later  it  was  taken  with  the  rest  of  the  Paduan  fiefs  by 
Can  Grande  della  Scala;  but  with  the  fall  of  the  Scala 
kingdom  after  Can  Grande's  death,  it  was  repos- 
sessed by  the  house  of  Este.  In  1404,  during  a  war 
waged  by  the  Marchese  Niccolo  III  and  the  Pope 
against  Venice,  Rovigo  was  violently  attacked  by  the 
Republic's  army,  and  her  territory  overrun  with  fire 
and  sword;  Niccolo,  "beset  by  Venetian  forces  on  land 
and  water,  his  capital  threatened  by  starvation,  his 
subject  cities  in  flames,  was  compelled  to  purchase 
peace  by  the  surrender  of  the  city  and  territory  of 
Rovigo  to  Venice." *  In  1438  they  were  restored  to 
Niccolo  by  the  Republic,  in  order  to  secure  his  alliance 
against  Filippo  Maria  Visconti.  In  1481,  during  the 
war  of  Pope  Sixtus  IV  against  the  Republic,  in  which 
Duke  Ercole  d'Este  had  the  ill  judgment  to  support 
the  former's  side,  the  arms  of  Venice  once  more  as- 
cended the  Po,  ravaged  the  Polesine,  and  besieged 
its  unfortunate  capital. 

"By  the  middle  of  I  be  summer  [of  that  year]  the  tri- 
umph of  the  Venetians  all  along  the  Po  was  complete, 
and  Rovigo  became  isolated.  An  attempl  to  send  re- 
inforcements from  Ferrara  failed,  and  the  Venetians, 
apparently  not  realizing  its  helpless  situation,  offered 

generous   conditions   if   the  citizens   would   surrender 

spontaneously.  On  August  14,  Casparoda  San  Seve- 
1  K.  Noyes,  Story  of  Ferrara, 


5i2  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

rino  entered  the  town  in  the  name  of  the  Signoria  of 
Venice."1  The  Peace  of  Bagnolo,  shortly  after,  con- 
firmed its  cession  to  the  Republic,  with  the  greater 
part  of  the  Polesine.  "  The  loss  of  Rovigo  was  a  bitter 
and  humiliating  blow  for  the  Duke,  —  but  he  was  too 
weak  to  protest.  —  The  Golden  Age  [of  Este]  was 
gone,  never  to  return."  Alfonso,  the  next  duke,  made 
a  desperate  effort  to  recover  these  domains  during  the 
War  of  the  League  of  Cambrai;  but  Venice,  beaten  and 
exhausted  as  she  was,  refused  to  relax  her  grip;  and 
Rovigo  remained  a  part  of  her  territories  until  the  end 
of  the  Republic.  The  city,  therefore,  as  we  now  be- 
hold it,  is  a  thoroughly  Venetian  town:  which  was 
reconstructed  and  adorned  by  its  suzerain  during  the 
sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries. 

The  railway  station,  where  the  main  line  connects 
with  branches  to  Verona  and  Chioggia,  lies  some  dis- 
tance to  the  northwest  of  the  city;  which  is  approached 
by  an  avenue  of  plane  trees  bending  alternately  to  the 
south  and  the  east,  and  finally  settling  itself  in  the 
latter  direction  upon  entering  the  old  town  itself.  Here 
it  becomes  the  Via  Umberto  I,  —  a  broad  straight 
thoroughfare  without  arcades,  running  between  four- 
storied  stucco  dwellings  and  Venetian  palaces;  and 
here  upon  the  left  is  located  the  excellent  "Corona 
Ferrea,"  —  or  Inn  of  the  Iron  Crown,  —  recently  re- 
christened,  by  the  man  who  has  endowed  it  with  mod- 
ern comforts  and  cleanliness,  as  "Bracchi's  Hotel."  It 
was  the  best  hostelry  that  I  had  found  since  leaving 
Verona,  at  the  same  time  of  very  reasonable  prices;  and 
the  usual  traveler  could  do  no  better  than  make  it  his 
head-quarters,  while  visiting  the  various  places  in  the 
vicinity. 

On  the  morning  after  my  arrival,  I  started  eastward 

1  E.  G.  Gardner,  Ariosto:  the  King  of  Court-Poets- 


ROVIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLIA    543 

to  the  central  piazza,  examining,  as  I  slowly  proceeded, 
the  interesting  edifices  of  the  street.  Immediately  to 
the  right,  at  the  angle  of  the  Via  Minilli,  rose  a  splen- 
did old  Gothic  palazzo  of  the  Venetian  type:  four  sto- 
ries high,  of  stucco,  with  colonnaded  trefoil  windows 
in  the  middle  of  the  first  two  floors,  flanked  by 
single  windows  of  the  same  design  with  balconies  of 
flamboyant  tracery;  the  eaves  being  graced  by  a  curi- 
ous parapet  made  of  large  stucco  fleurs-de-lys.  Back 
of  this  on  the  side  street  was  a  contrasting  Renais- 
sance palace,  of  stucco,  red  brick,  and  terra-cotta, 
equally  charming  in  design;  each  of  its  three  stories 
held  a  large  central  archway,  flanked  by  two  pairs  of 
double  arched  windows,  all  with  bright  frames  and 
pillars  of  brick,  —  the  windows  topped  by  winged  cotta 
medallions  with  busts;  another  feature  was  the  four 
beautiful  pilaster-strips  reaching  from  ground  to  bat- 
tlements, made  of  brick  with  fine  open  tracery  of  terra- 
cotta. 

A  pretty  little  terraced  garden  on  its  left  looked 
down  upon  a  dark  stream  that  here  appeared,  flowing 
eastward  between  quays  shaded  by  endless  rows  of 
big  horse-chestnut  trees;  it  was  the  Naviglio  Adigetto. 
Thoroughly  Venetian  was  this  picturesque  scene:  the 
muddy  water,  twenty  yards  in  breadth,  was  sunk 
deeply  between  its  old  brick  embankments,  broken  at 
intervals  by  steps  descending  to  landings;  a  succession 
of  bridges,  of  stone,  brick,  ;md  iron,  marked  the  long 

vista  on  each  hand,  dusky  beneath  its  dense,  arching 
foliage,  so  dense  th.it  it  concealed  all  but  the  first 
stories  of  the  aged  stucco  buildings  facing  the  quays. 
Here  was  the  original  grand  thoroughfare  of  the  town, 

thai  gaveil  life  and  prosperity  for  many  ages  before 

the  present;  and  still  then-  remained  a  fair  part  of 
that   water-borne  traffic,      evidenced  by  the  three 


544  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

barges  which  I  saw  slowly  advancing.  Their  method 
of  propulsion  was  the  laboring  one  of  four  centuries 
ago,  —  long  poles  thrust  against  the  bottom  by  men 
walking  from  prow  to  stern.  The  innumerable  bridges 
prevent  the  use  of  the  tow-line.  Silent,  however,  were 
the  confining  rows  of  houses,  and  nearly  deserted  were 
the  shady  quays;  on  the  southern  bank  a  medieval 
brick  tower  soared  far  into  the  sky,  broad,  windowless, 
and  shattered  at  the  top,  —  the  donjon-keep,  as  I 
later  found,  of  the  ruined  Venetian  citadel. 

As  I  retook  my  way  eastward  on  Via  Umberto,  which 
now  changed  its  name  to  Via  Angeli,  continuous  ar- 
cades sprang  up  on  the  left  side,  and  on  the  right  ap- 
peared a  great  Renaissance  palace  of  imposing  lines; 
its  stuccoed  body  emphasized  the  ponderous  arched 
portal  of  rusticated  stone,  topped  by  a  balustrade,  the 
stone-framed  baroque  windows,  and  the  third-story 
pediment  with  its  shield  of  arms  and  Roman  trophies. 
Opposite  this  rose  a  handsome  palazzo  of  unique  de- 
sign, —  every  brick  of  its  facade  being  separately  rus- 
ticated, and  of  lavender  hue  with  light-gray  trimmings, 
over  a  dark-brown  stucco  arcade.  There  followed  it 
an  impressive,  long  colonnade  of  heavy  Doric  columns, 
extending  before  many  different  edifices. 

Then  the  street  ended;  and  a  short  turn  to  the  north 
debouched  at  once  into  the  central  piazza.  But  at  this 
very  angle  on  the  left,  fronting  eastward,  I  found  the 
splendid  Palazzo  Roncalli,  erected  by  Sammicheli  in 
1555:  three  huge  rusticated  arches,  of  stucco  cleverly 
imitating  stone,  with  mouthing  bearded  heads  upon 
the  keystones,  formed  the  ground  loggia;  in  the  piano 
nobile  opened  six  handsome  arched  windows,  with  bal- 
ustrades, divided  by  Ionic  pilasters,  all  in  dark-gray 
stucco  or  cement;  and  the  third  story  held  a  series  of 
small  quadrangular  windows,  below  the  heavy  cornice. 


ROVIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLIA    515 

Immediately  beyond  it,  through  a  lofty  archway,  I 
entered  the  southwest  corner  of  the  spacious,  impos- 
ing, and  picturesque  Piazza  Vittorio  Emanuele. 

It  was  delightfully  Venetian,  in  its  characteristics 
of  size,  dignity,  and  grace,  combined  with  a  manifest 
unaltering  age.  The  southern  third  was  paved  with 
cobbles  for  horse-traffic,  the  rest,  with  worn  gray  flags; 
the  greater  length  of  the  parallelogram,  however, 
was  from  east  to  west.  In  the  centre  stood  a  heroic 
marble  figure  of  the  victorious  king,  and  south  of  it 
rose  the  glorious  old  Venetian  Lion,  upon  a  tall  marble 
shaft.  On  all  sides  extended  tall  arcades,  —  those  at 
the  north  including  the  second-story  windows.  The 
arches  were  all  rounded;  the  first  columns  of  the 
southern  side  were  a  splendid  Corinthian  series,  of 
marble;  in  the  middle  of  the  western  side  stretched 
a  ponderous,  stuccoed,  Doric  colonnade;  but]  else- 
where the  supports  were  chiefly  quadrangular  stuccoed 
piers  or  pillars.  The  buildings  were  likewise  stuccoed, 
of  three  or  four  stories,  colored  in  soft  tints  of  brown 
and  green.  At  the  left  end  of  the  northern  side  the  prin- 
cipal caffe  was  in  evidence,  protruding  its  throng  of 
tables  and  chairs  far  out  upon  the  pavement. 

In  the  adjacent  angle,  facing  east,  stood  the  Palazzo 
Comnnale  with  the  bell-tower  on  its  left;  the  latter 
rose  in  four  divisions,  —  a  rusticated  stone  base,  two 
long  stages  of  plain,  windowless  stucco,  and  a  halus- 
traded  Renaissance  belfry,  of  a  single  arch  on  each  side. 
Beside  it>  base  extended  two  broad  stucco  arches  of 
brown  line,  t lie  right  one  covering  a  narrow  street  darl- 
ing west,  wit  li  an  open  marble  stairway  from  the  street 

to  the  upper  floor;  to  I  lie  left  of  the  latter  on  the  rear 

wall  of  the  loggia  I  saw  a  marble  medallion  with  a 
fair  bus!  of  Dante, and  an  inscription  dated  1865.  The 
upper  floor  was  adorned  with  a  beautiful  nine-arched 


516  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 


.> 


window  on  square  pillars,  of  brown  stucco;  the  central 
arch  forming  a  niche  in  which  stood  a  life-size  marble 
statue  of  the  Madonna,  in  the  style  of  Sansovino, 
holding  a  Child  that  gazed  forth  very  prettily  and 
naturally;  before  it  projected  a  baroque  ringhiera- 
balcony,  whose  heavy  balustrade  continued  along  the 
entire  colonnade.  The  frieze  overhead  was  a  series  of 
frescoed  panels,  —  coats-of-arms  and  medallions,  in 
varying  brown  shades,  centred  by  a  relief  of  the  shield 
of  Rovigo.  Two  more  reliefs,  modern  busts,  graced  the 
opposing  end  walls  of  the  loggia:  one  of  the  poet,  Felice 
Cavallotti,  with  adornments  in  the  way  of  wreaths, 
a  spread  eagle,  a  lion's  head,  etc. ;  the  other  of  Giuseppi 
Mazzini,  likewise  decorated.  All  this  was  really  but 
the  ornamental  portion  of  the  Municipio's  fagade; 
for  the  city  occupied  also  the  upper  floors  of  the  plain 
building  on  the  right,  up  to  and  beyond  the  corner, 
including  the  suites  devoted  to  the  city  library  and 
art  collection;  the  latter  being  approached  by  another 
entrance,  marked  "Accademia  dei  Concordi,"  ad- 
jacent to  the  caffe  upon  the  left. 

Another  interesting  structure  I  observed  at  the 
piazza's  southeastern  angle,  facing  north,  —  the  pa- 
lazzo  of  the  "Universita  Popolare":  this  was  faced  by 
an  extravagant,  nondescript  portico,  fan-shaped  in 
plan,  rising  upon  a  flight  of  seven  or  eight  steps;  the 
tall,  rusticated  arches,  of  gray  stucco  simulating  stone, 
were  separated  by  half-columns  that  continued  above 
the  cornice,  bearing  plaster  Roman  trophies,  of  odd 
appearance.  Back  of  this  rose  a  lofty  gabled  wall, 
adorned  solely  with  two  great  shields  of  arms,  be- 
tween reclining  figures,  flags,  and  warlike  instruments, 
all  modeled  in  stucco.  Under  the  portico  were  some 
modern  busts  in  circular  niches.  Judicious  was  Lord 
Broughton's  remark,  that  "there  is  no  country  which 


ROVIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLIA    547 

can  contend  with  Italy  in  the  honors  heaped  upon  the 
great  men  of  past  ages.  .  .  .  There  is  scarcely  a  vil- 
lage in  which  the  traveler  is  not  reminded  of  the  birth, 
or  the  residence,  or  the  death,  or  the  actions  of  one 

or  more  of  the  offspring  of  a  soil  fruitful  in  famous 

"  i 
men. 

From  the  right  end  of  the  northern  side  of  the  piazza, 
the  Via  Orefici  led  me  in  one  block  to  the  Piazza  Gari- 
baldi, —  a  smaller  space,  yet  of  good  general  size;  in 
its  centre  I  observed  a  splendid  equestrian  bronze 
statue  of  the  hero,  very  lifelike  and  powerful.  On  its 
west  side  rose  the  new,  stuccoed  building  of  the  post- 
ofBce,  in  Renaissance  style,  with  a  trio  of  handsome 
arched  windows.  From  its  east  side  another  street 
conducted  me  shortly  to  the  Porta  S.  Bartolommeo 
in  the  old  city  wall,  —  a  huge  round  archway  topped 
by  brick  battlements;  the  wall  itself  was  vanished, 
supplanted  by  a  line  of  houses  toward  the  south.  Fol- 
lowing the  narrow  way  before  these,  I  quickly  crossed 
the  Adigetto,  —  a  fair  vista  with  its  long  straight 
quays  and  luxuriant  shade  trees;  to  the  left  an  an- 
cient dwelling  of  purple  hue,  crowned  by  pointed 
battlements,  backed  upon  the  stream  a  garden  that 
was  one  great  mass  of  rose-bushes  and  -vines,  the  lat- 
ter shaped  into  an  arcaded  parapet  along  the  water. 
Beyond  this  soared  far  into  the  blue  a  colossal  old 
guard-tower  of  the  ramparts,  occupied  by  a  modern 
five-storied  habitation,  two  windows  broad,  which 
nevertheless  did  qoI  reach  to  its  summit.  Another 
ponderous  arched  gateway  succeeded,  spanning  a 
street  upon  which  I  returned  to  the  west;  very  soon 
it  brought  me  to  an  enormous  briek  ehureh  on  the 
left,  facing  westward  over  a  small,  dilapidated  piazza. 

It  was  Elovigo's  Cathedral,       "II  Redentore.' 
1  Lord  Broughton,  Remarks  Mads  in  Several  Visits  to  Italy  (1810-54). 


548  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

This  edifice  —  which  is  more  directly  reached  by 
turning  southward  at  the  end  of  Via  Angeli  (sopra)  — 
has  an  apse,  a  drum,  and  a  transept,  all  of  massive  size 
commensurate  with  the  nave.    It  is  a  recent  building, 
not  a  hundred  years  old.    The  unfinished  facade  is  of 
rough  brickwork,  with  three  plain  doorways,  crowned 
by  a  statue  of  Christ  in  the  middle;  the  vast  interior 
is  well  proportioned  and  designed,  in  pleasing  Renais- 
sance lines  that  avoid  over-adornment  and  escape  the 
baroque.   The  lofty  vaulted  nave  has  three  deep  altar 
recesses  in  each  whitened  wall,  arched,  and  divided 
by  huge  Corinthian  columns,  that  sustain  the  contin- 
uous, heavy  block  cornice.     The  dark  semicircle  of 
choir  stalls  is  richly  carved,  and  near  by  stands  a 
magnificent  bronze  candelabrum  of  the  high-Renais- 
sance, sculptured  in  the  lavish  style  of  Riccio;  three 
bound  slaves  are  figured  around  the  base,  charming 
little  putti  sit  with  folded  arms  about  the  upper  shaft, 
and  other  delicate  forms  of  exceeding  grace  and  nat- 
uralness are  wrought  throughout  the  luxuriance  of 
ornamentation.   Although  I  made  every  effort  for  sev- 
eral days  to  ascertain  the  sculptor,  nothing  appeared 
to  be  known  except  that  it  had  been  handed  down  for 
centuries  in  the  chapter.    The  paintings  here  were 
decadent  and  uninteresting. 

Continuing  westward  from  the  Duomo,  I  reached  in 
another  block  the  so-called  Piazza  del  Castello,  on  the 
southern  bank  of  the  Naviglio,  —  a  long  narrow  space 
fronted  by  aged,  grimy,  stucco  dwellings;  directly  back 
of  which,  entered  through  a  short  alley,  stretched  the 
enceinture  of  the  ancient  citadel.  Of  its  buildings 
naught  remained  but  two  shattered  brick  towers,  lean- 
ing in  opposite  directions,  —  the  taller  of  which  I  had 
remarked  from  the  opposite  bank,  —  and  the  southern 
wall  of  the  castle,  some  twenty  feet  high,  curving  out- 


/. 

fa 

O 


CO 

< 


ROVIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLIA    549 

wardly  from  one  keep  to  the  other.  The  enormous 
height  of  the  stern  windowless  donjon  —  fully  two 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  —  indicates  the  former  size 
and  power  of  this  medieval  fortress  of  the  Estensi; 
here  their  governors  resided,  and  the  princes  them- 
selves, when  visiting  the  town;  here  the  Venetian 
Podestas  in  their  turn  held  for  centuries  a  semiregal 
sway.  The  scene  of  so  much  grandeur  was  now  a  re- 
fuse-littered farmyard,  with  a  few  stunted  trees  and 
a  weedy,  neglected  garden. 

That  afternoon  I  paid  my  visit  to  the  most  import- 
ant church  of  the  town,  both  historically  and  artist- 
ically, by  returning  to  Piazza  Garibaldi  and  strik- 
ing north  from  it  a  short  distance.  Here,  behind  a 
small  area,  rose  the  grand  old  edifice  of  S.  Francesco, 
fronted  by  a  later,  eighteenth-century  facade  of 
stucco;  four  massive  Ionic  half-columns  supported  the 
pediment  of  the  nave,  and  two  Ionic  pilasters  adorned 
each  of  the  lower  wings;  the  pediment  was  filled  with 
a  group  of  large  plaster  figures  representing  the  Ma- 
donna amidst  various  saints,  and  five  statues  of  other 
saints  graced  the  eaves.  The  interior  was  of  similar 
lines  to  the  Duomo,  but  somewhat  smaller,  —  a  work, 
however,  truly  of  the  High-Renaissance  period,  and 
of  attractive  dignity  and  graceful  proportions.  Its 
importance  lay  in  the  paintings  that  remained  from 
the  same  period. 

The  chief  of  these  I  found  over  the  first  altar  to  the 
right,  a  picture  so  glorious  thai  it  alone  was  well  worth 

tin-  journey  to  Rovigo:  it    was  an  exceptionally  large 

panel  by  Cima  da  Conegliano,  depicting  the  Baptism 

of  Christ,  and  remarkably  well  preserved.  The 
Chlisl  Btandfl  at  the  left  in  a  small  pool  of  water,  and 
St.  .John  at  the  right,  slight  lv  higher,  emptying  with 
one  hand  the  blessed  CUp;  at    the  extreme  left    kneels 


550  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

a  small  winged  angel  holding  a  garment;  overhead  is 
a  brilliant  burst  of  golden  sun-rays,  from  whose  centre 
appears  the  descending  Dove,  with  two  tiny  angels 
visible  just  above  it,  extending  a  white  scarf  in  crescent 
form;  in  the  rolling  masses  of  red-gold  clouds  many 
little  flying  cherubs  are  seen;  the  background  exhibits 
a  fair  blue  lake,  with  a  walled  and  towered  city  on  its 
verge,  overhung  by  an  immense,  rocky,  and  fantastic 
crag.  The  work  is  most  admirable  for  its  peculiar  tone 
of  burnished  bronze,  its  luminous  color-scheme  and 
glossy  finish,  its  effective  composition,  and  its  grace- 
ful, lifelike,  finely  modeled  figures,  agitated  by  sin- 
cere emotions.  It  has  many  points  of  likeness  with 
the  master's  great  Baptism  in  S.  Giovanni  in  Bragora, 
Venice;  and  was  executed  considerably  later  than  that 
masterpiece,  in  1513,  —  according  to  the  date  at  the 
top  of  the  unique  Renaissance  frame. 

This  frame  was  the  original  inclosure  adopted  by 
Cima,  because  he  adorned  it  with  several  figures:  on 
the  pedestals  of  the  columns  are  painted  St.  Louis  and 
St.  Anthony  of  Padua  to  the  right,  Saints  Roch  and 
Francis  to  the  left;  on  the  middle  of  the  base  is  a  me- 
dallion containing  a  crowned  and  crucified  Christ, 
most  beautiful  and  touching,  full  of  tenderest  feeling 
and  expression;  and  in  the  pediment  is  visible  the  aw- 
ful form  of  the  Almighty,  seated  with  one  hand  upon 
a  globe,  the  other  pointing  heavenward,  the  hair  and 
beard  flying,  and  the  cloak  blown  above  his  head,  by 
a  gale  so  realistic  that  one  seems  to  hear  it  roar.  —  The 
second  altar  to  the  right  held  another  large  tavola,  also 
excellent,  by  Domenico  Panetti,  the  Ferrarese:  it  re- 
presented the  Madonna  throned  between  Saints  Peter 
and  Andrew,  with  a  vase  of  the  prettiest,  most  natural 
flowers  standing  on  the  pavement  before  the  throne, 
and  twro  crowns  depending  by  beads  from  the  front 


ROVIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLIA    551 

corners  of  the  surmounting  canopy.  The  Virgin  was 
quite  Peruginesque  in  face  and  attitude,  very  grace- 
fully moulded,  with  folded  hands  and  little  feet  peep- 
ing from  under  her  simple  blue  robe,  —  altogether  a 
most  enchanting  figure.  The  Babe  and  the  two  elderly 
saints  were  not  of  so  high  a  standard;  but  the  tone 
and  finish  were  richly  golden,  and  the  background  dis- 
played the  far  Lombard  plain,  poetically  shrouded  in 
the  blue  haze  of  a  summer's  day. 

At  the  end  of  the  right  transept  I  found  a  large  and 
dramatic  Descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  by  that  rare 
artist,  Girolamo  Carpi  of  Ferrara,  —  a  work  of  ex- 
traordinary vividness  and  intensity,  with  most  real- 
istic and  expressive  figures.  The  Madonna,  for  once 
at  least,  is  portrayed  at  her  proper  age;  the  apostles 
are  plainly  stricken  with  awe  and  amazement;  there 
is  no  visible  background,  but  overhead  hangs  a  dark- 
lined  cloud  with  a  blazing  centre,  whose  flames  burst 
downward  through  a  dozen  apertures.  The  high-altar 
piece  was  another  fine  work,  though  much  injured  by 
time:  in  a  glory  of  clouds  appeared  a  very  lovely 
Madonna,  surrounded  by  a  group  of  charming  angels; 
below  stood  Francis  of  Assisi  between  two  other 
saints,  accompanied  by  the  two  kneeling  donors,  — 
Cavaliere  Amelio  Silvestri  and  his  wife.  It  was  an  ex- 
ceptionally good  specimen  of  Bcnvcnuto  Tisi,  called 
Garofalo. 

Adjacenl  to  the  left  transept  I  was  shown  a  hand- 
sonic  sacristy.  Sere  there  was  a  large  stone  relief  of 
1572,  represent ing  the  Virgin  between  Saints  Lawrence 
and  John  the  Baptist,  fairly  well  done.  Over  one 
doorway  hung  ;i  beautiful  though  damaged  canvas  by 
Giovanni  Cariani  of  Bergamo,  in  his  most  Palmesque 
style,  depicting  St.  Francis  presenting  the  donor  to 
the   throned   Madonna;    the  attractive  Virgin  exhib- 


552  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

ited  a  decided  resemblance  to  Palma's  celebrated 
model,  and  the  Child,  leaning  forward  with  an  inter- 
ested look,  was  unusually  winsome  and  intelligent. 
Over  another  door  was  an  anonymous  picture  of  the 
same  school,  —  a  Holy  Family  with  St.  Catherine, 
to  whom  the  Babe  stretches  forth  his  tiny  hands,  in 
delight;  though  not  of  so  high  an  order  as  the  other, 
it  was  prettily  designed  and  of  good  significance.  The 
chamber  was  filled  with  a  lot  of  fine  old  carved  fur- 
niture, richly  foliated,  —  presses,  tables,  and  chairs. 

A  little  to  the  northeast  of  this  I  found  the  curious 
church  called  La  Rotonda,  or  La  Chiesa  Municipale, 
because  it  was  reconstructed  and  adorned  by  the  city 
in  1887.  It  is  a  huge  octagon,  both  inside  and  out,  sit- 
uated at  the  northern  end  of  an  astonishingly  broad 
avenue  lined  by  even  files  of  stuccoed  dwellings,  — 
named  the  Piazza  Venti  Settembre.  It  is  surrounded 
by  a  broad  one-storied  portico,  also  octagonal,  whose 
level  roof  is  upheld  by  a  continuous  colonnade  of 
massive  Doric  columns  of  stucco,  which  lend  to  the 
edifice  a  peculiar  dignity.  On  its  north  side,  detached, 
in  a  little  shady  court,  rises  the  tremendous  brick  cam- 
panile to  a  gigantic  height,  embellished  with  white 
stone  trimmings,  a  baroque  belfry,  and  an  octagonal 
Byzantine  lantern.  In  the  corridor  of  the  portico  I  ob- 
served many  old  monuments,  tombs,  and  inscriptions, 
of  every  epoch.  The  interior  presented  a  unique  ap- 
pearance,—  a  vast  rotunda  without  aisles  or  columns, 
encircled  by  choir  stalls  and  rows  of  immense  can- 
vases, capped  by  a  flat  painted  roof. 

The  stalls  were  of  carved  oak,  against  an  oaken  wain- 
scoting, separated  by  benches  from  the  central  space; 
they  were  broken  by  simple  doorways  on  three  sides, 
and  a  single  huge  gilt  altar  on  the  fourth;  over  the 
paneling  extended  a  line  of  decadent,  seicento  paintings, 


ROVIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLIA    553 

then  a  circle  of  niches  in  gilded  frames,  seven  per  side, 
—  three  occupied  by  black  wooden  statues  and  four 
by  smaller  pictures ;  then  another  row  of  large  canvases, 
two  per  side;  and  finally,  the  line  of  windows,  three 
per  side,  in  gilt  frames  with  Corinthian  pilasters,  just 
beneath  the  cornice  of  blue  and  gold.  A  quadrangular 
space  before  the  altar  was  railed  off  for  the  choir,  upon 
.the  old  marble  pavement  of  checkered  red  and  cream. 
The  painted  roof,  I  was  told,  was  a  modern  work  of 
stretched  canvas.  All  these  pictures  were  more  or  less 
poor,  even  ugly,  but  the  edifice  itself  was  a  most  in- 
teresting freak  of  neo-classicism. 

I  beheld  some  first-class  paintings,  however,  when  I 
repaired  to  the  city  gallery,  on  the  second  morning. 
Entering  by  the  door  beside  the  caff  e,  I  mounted  a  grand 
staircase  at  the  end  of  a  dark  passage,  and  at  its  top 
found  the  municipal  library  occupying  a  spacious  rear 
chamber;  the  front  chamber,  still  larger,  contained 
the  body  of  the  art  collection,  but  the  flower  of  it  was 
gathered  in  a  small  room  between  the  others.  This 
gallery  is  a  recent  aggregation  of  old  pictures,  which 
a  generation  ago  were  scattered  through  Rovigo's 
churches  and  convents,  and  in  private  collections  of 
noble  families  thai  had  descended  from  Renaissance 
days;  the  palaces  of  the  Campanari,  the  Mattomi, 
the  Ferrari,  the  Silvestri,  the  Basaiti,  all  had  accumu- 
lations of  note,  which,  as  Lanzi  remarked,  "abounded 
with  many  celebrated  figure  painters,  no  less  of  the 
Venetian   than   of  other   Italian  schools,"  and  which 

to-day,  save  for  Borne  alienations,  are  here  assembled. 
The  Casa  Barufi  alone  seems  to  have  kept  its  paintings 
at  home. 

The  exhibit  in  the  -mailer  room  was  of  amazing 
value,  for  BO  small  a  town  and  gallery.  Nearly  every 
picture  of  the  several  score  was  worth  careful  alien- 


554  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

tion,  and  a  large  proportion  were  works  of  the  first 
class.  Of  a  special  interest  were  the  few  specimens  of 
the  earliest  Venetian  school;  foremost  among  them  a 
singular  panel  of  St.  Lucy  and  her  miracles,  signed  by 
"Quiricius  De  Joanes  d'  Alemagna,  1462,"  x —  the 
full-length  figure  of  the  saint,  in  her  dress  of  cloth-of- 
gold,  being  moulded  with  much  charm,  and  crowned 
by  two  tiny  putti;  while  the  miracles  are  depicted  in 
six  small  tableaux  at  the  sides.  There  were  also  of  that 
period  a  Coronation  of  the  Virgin  by  Luigi  Vivarini 
the  Elder,  in  bad  condition  (number  158)  and  a  Ma- 
donna with  S.  Agnese  by  Bartolommeo  Vivarini,  really 
graceful  in  its  lines  (number  204).  By  Carpaccio  there 
was  a  Holy  Family,  of  finely  modeled  half -figures,  now 
much  faded  (number  205);  by  Cima  da  Conegliano, 
a  lovely  seated  half-figure  of  the  Madonna  with  her 
Child,  before  a  pleasant  far  landscape  of  green  slopes 
and  blue  mountains  (number  207) ;  by  Gentile  Bellini 
(signed,  1501)  a  beautiful  Madonna,  with  the  Babe 
posed  before  her  on  a  table,  seated  on  white  cushions, 
—  showing  what  enchanting  pietistic  work  he  could  do 
when  he  wished  (number  208) ;  and  by  Giovanni  Bellini 
were  two  splendid  specimens:  a  well-preserved,  glow- 
ing panel  of  the  Madonna  and  Child  (signed,  1516), 
she  clad  in  a  scarlet  cloak,  and  of  exquisite  flesh-work, 
the  Babe  extremely  winsome  (number  206);  and  a 
Marriage  of  St.  Catherine,  somewhat  retouched  but 
still  very  attractive,  with  the  faces  of  the  women 
charmingly  rounded  and  seraphic  (number  210). 

Of  the  succeeding  generation  there  were  equally 
grand  examples,  —  chief  among  them  four  delightful 
Palma  Vecchios:  two  were  lifelike  portraits  (numbers 

1  According  to  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle,  this  Quiricius  was  a  pupil  of 
Giovanni  d'  Alemannus.  The  painting  is  esteemed  of  priceless  value:  it 
came  from  the  Campanari  collection. 


ROVIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLIA   555 

183-84) ;  the  third,  a  group  of  the  Madonna  and  Saints 
Elena  and  Girolanio,  nearly  life-size,  in  good  condi- 
tion, with  forms  and  countenances  of  striking  beauty, 
in  his  usual  warm  golden  tone  (number  186);  and  the 
fourth,  a  similar  group,  of  the  Madonna  between 
Saints  Roch  and  John,  unfortunately  mostly  ruined, 
but  the  Virgin  still  of  tender  loveliness  (number  187). 
There  were  three  Pordenones,  —  two  of  them  poor 
portrait  heads  (numbers  159-60),  the  third  a  group 
of  Saints  Lucy,  Agnes,  and  Catherine,  all  from  the 
same  model,  pleasingly  rounded  but  of  no  expression, 
and  badly  faded  (number  161).  There  were  five  por- 
traits by  Tintoretto,  the  best  being  of  Doge  Andrea 
Gritti,  —  a  powerful  head  (number  163);  a  life-size, 
impressive  figure  of  St.  Paul  by  Sebastiano  del  Pi- 
ombo  (number  182);  a  Circumcision  in  the  manner  of 
Catena,  signed  by  Marco  Belli  (number  211);  a  splen- 
did large  Scourging  of  Christ,  by  Bonifazio,  so  su- 
perior that  it  was  long  accredited  to  Giorgione  (num- 
ber 200),  and  a  picture  of  the  infants,  Jesus  and  John, 
playing  with  a  lamb,  by  Titian,  badly  darkened  but 
si  ill  of  much  charm  (number  192).  I  observed  further 
a  retouched  copy  of  one  of  Titian's  Madonnas  (num- 
ber 194);  a  copy  of  the  famous  head  in  Giorgione's 
Bearing  of  tin-  Cross,  formerly  at  Vicenza,  —  executed 
by  Basaiti,  according  to  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle  * 
I  number  202  ;  ;i  small  head  of  a  young  man,  very  nat- 
ural and  strong,  from  the  school  of  Giorgione,  —  and 
perhaps  by  himself  (number  80S);  and  a  very  effective 
portrait  by  C.  B.  Tiepolo  (number  185).  From  the 
Veronese  school,  finally,  came  a  very  quaint  though 
confused  Adoration  of  the  Magi,  by  Paolo's  master, 

1  "In  which  Lombard  regularity  <>f  features  and  gioa  of  surface  an-  so 
mark.-, I,  thai  the  picture  hai  been  thought  worthyol  Leonardo  da  Vinci. 
The  execution  betrays  the  band  "f  Basaiti,  or  Previtali." 


550  PLAIN-TOWNS   OF   ITALY 

Badile  (number  170).  In  a  case  at  one  side  there 
reposed  a  few  old  illuminated  books,  including  a 
Bible  with  unusually  large  pictures,  by  the  school  of 
Giotto;  and  at  another  side  lay  a  glass-covered  Re- 
naissance mould,  relieved  with  the  most  exquisite  pos- 
sible arabesques  and  minute  figures.  The  front  hall, 
many  times  larger  and  loftier,  was  filled  with  a  throng 
of  inferior  works;  but  amongst  them  my  eye  caught  at 
once  a  fine  example  of  the  rare  Jacopo  Valentina,  of 
Ceneda,  —  a  small  Madonna  and  Child  (number  01); 
also  a  panel  of  Christ  bearing  the  Cross,  by  Mantegna, 
much  injured  but  still  very  characteristic  (number 
107),  and  a  good  Ecce  Homo  by  Gianpetrino  (number 
109).  Of  further  interest  were  a  Domenichino, — 
St.  Jerome  in  the  desert,  of  his  usual  manner  (number 
131),  an  interesting  large  canvas  of  the  Magi  by  Fe- 
derigo  Zuccari  (number  114),  and  four  life-size  figures 
of  saints  by  Dosso  Dossi,  of  conspicuous  grace  and  col- 
oring (numbers  147,  151);  also  a  copy  of  one  of  Peru- 
gino's  Madonnas,  and  an  admirable  Madonna  with  two 
infants  from  the  school  of  Raphael  (number  90).  By 
foreign  masters  there  were  several  pieces  of  note:  a 
small  Nativity,  very  quaint  and  interesting,  signed  by 
Holbein  Luca  von  Leyden  (number  71),  a  Madonna 
crowned  by  S.  Zaccaria,  by  Jan  Mabuse,  1528  (num- 
ber 70),  a  Christ  crowned  with  thorns  by  Jan  Holbein 
(77),  a  superb  portrait  of  Ferdinand  I  by  the  same, 
—  or,  as  some  critics  assert,  by  Hans  von  Schwaz 
(number  75),  and  three  excellent  small  studies  said  to 
be  by  Albrecht  Diirer,  —  which  is  doubtful,  —  depict- 
ing a  Venus,  a  Christ  bearing  the  Cross,  and  Adam 
and  Eve  (numbers  78,  79,  80).  — Altogether,  as  before 
remarked,  this  is  an  astonishing  gallery  for  its  size  and 
location,  and  well  worth  a  day's  examination. 

On  my  last  day  at  Rovigo  I  paid  a  visit  to  the  old 


ROVIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLIA    557 

Casa  Barufi,  situated  shortly  beyond  the  Duomo, 
within  whose  walls  that  prominent  and  once  wealthy 
familv  have  dwelt  since  Renaissance  times.  I  found 
the  mansion  divided  by  a  broad  hallway  running  to 
the  shady  garden  in  the  rear;  narrow  stairs  at  the  left 
conducted  me  to  a  similar  hall  above,  where  the  fam- 
ily's collection  of  pictures  had  hung  apparently  undis- 
turbed for  four  hundred  years.  Frames  and  panels 
alike  were  worm-eaten,  and  all  were  obscured  by  the 
agglomerated  dirt  of  centuries.  The  several  score  of 
paintings  were  productions  almost  entirely  of  the  cin- 
quecento,  with  a  remarkable  predominance  of  great 
names,  to  whom  for  the  most  part  they  seemed  to  me 
justly  accredited;  though  not  works  of  the  first  import- 
ance, they  were  valuable  for  their  freedom  from  re- 
touching, and  a  thorough  cleaning  would  soon  remove 
the  accumulated  grime.  The  most  valuable  specimen 
was  an  undeniable,  attractive  panel  of  Giovanni  Bel- 
lini, representing  the  Madonna  with  her  Child  and  St. 
Anne,  between  two  standing,  manly  figures  in  graceful 
quattrocento  costume,  of  deep-red  hue;  it  was  evidently 
an  early  work,  and,  aside  from  the  worm-holes,  was  in 
excellent  condition. 

Two  oilier  early  panels  were  in  the  manner  of  the 
Vivarini,  both  Madonnas,  — one  really  of  exceptional 
beauty;  and  a  third,  depicting  the  Adoration  of  the 
Child,  with  three  little  angels  singing  on  the  roof  over- 
head, was  apparently  by  the  rare  Lorenzo  Parentino. 
By  Paolo  Veronese  there  were  two  indubitable  por- 
traits—  a  splendidly  moulded  female  and  a  lifelike 
warrior,  as  well  as  two  life-size  canvases  of  a  charm- 
ing sibyl  and  a  young  saint.  Of  Tiepolo  the  elder 
there  wire  I  hree  examples,  -  t  wo  peculiar  Madonnas, 
and  B  Holy  Family  full  of  delightful  paternal  feeling; 
another  Holy  Family,  exceedingly  dirtied  but  still  of 


058  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

true  loveliness  in  the  Madonna  and  the  romantic  land- 
scape, was  unmistakably  by  Paris  Bordone.  Of  more 
doubtful  authority  than  these  —  executed  perhaps  by 
pupils,  or  imitators  —  were  the  two  pictures  in  the 
style  of  Palma  Vecchio,  and  the  single  specimens  of 
the  maimer  of  Perugino,  Van  Dyke,  Garofalo,  Luca 
von  Leyden,  and  Guido  Reni;  some  of  these,  however, 
possessed  very  pleasing  qualities,  which  would  be 
greatly  enhanced  by  cleansing,  and  could  then  be  more 
surely  passed  upon.  —  As  this  curious  old  collection 
was  under  negotiation  for  sale  when  I  beheld  it,  it  will 
very  likely  be  removed  from  Rovigo  by  the  time  these 
lines  arc  read.  Inquiry  by  any  traveler  of  the  learned 
director  of  the  city  gallery  will  establish  the  fact  with- 
out trouble. 

An  interesting  trip  may  be  taken  from  Rovigo  over 
the  eastern  branch  railway  to  Adria  and  Chioggia, 
whence  the  lagoon  may  be  crossed  by  steamer  to  Ven- 
ice. Adria,  from  which  the  Adriatic. derived  its  name, 
is  now  situated  some  fifteen  miles  from  the  ever  ad- 
vancing coast-line,  upon  which  it  was  in  ancient  times 
an  important  port;  it  is  a  larger  place  than  Rovigo, 
having  fifteen  thousand  inhabitants,  yet  has  only  two 
things,  besides  its  old  palaces,  to  attract  the  traveler's 
attention,  —  the  collections  of  antiquities  in  the  Museo 
Civico  and  the  house  of  Signor  Bocchi.  These,  how- 
ever, are  not  distinguished  for  their  rarities  or  beauties, 
consisting  in  great  part  of  Etruscan  vases  more  or  less 
shattered,  whose  number  serves  to  show  the  size  of 
the  city  in  pre-Roman  days.  Chioggia  is  even  less 
noteworthy;  but  it  is  picturesque  in  location  and  in 
its  old  arcaded  houses,  and  the  sail  up  the  lagoon  is 
delightful. 

On  the  present  occasion,  however,  I  retraced  my 


a 


y. 


ROVIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLIA    559 

steps  as  far  as  Monselice,  and  continued  five  miles  be- 
yond the  latter  place,  to  the  village  of  Battaglia,  lying 
at  the  eastern  foot  of  the  Euganei,  upon  the  canal 
named  after  it.  Padua  is  but  eleven  miles  to  the  north- 
east, and  Arqua  but  four  miles  to  the  west,  unon  a 
shoulder  of  the  outer  line  of  hills.  In  itself  an  insigni- 
ficant hamlet,  Battaglia  is  distinguished  by  the  pre- 
sence of  two  famous  chateaux,  —  the  great  Castle  of 
Cattajo,  and  the  Villa  S.  Elena,  of  the  Counts  of  Emo; 
it  is  further  renowned  for  its  therapeutic  mineral 
springs  of  boiling  temperature,  to  whose  Stabilmento 
dei  Bagni  invalids  flock  for  the  cure  of  disorders  of  the 
blood  and  skin. 

These  baths  date  from  the  days  of  the  Romans,  as 
do  those  of  Abano  six  miles  to  the  north;  for  since 
primeval  times  the  whole  district  has  continued  to 
show  signs  of  volcanic  origin  and  activity,  in  the  shape 
of  boiling  springs  of  water  and  mud,  sulphuric  emana- 
tions, exudations  of  gas,  and  grottoes  of  heated  vapor; 
and  in  Imperial  days  the  wide  fame  of  its  healing  pow- 
ers brought  enormous  throngs  to  the  various  baths, 
and  marked  them  with  the  seal  of  fashion.  Abano  — 
whose  very  name  comes  from  bagno,  or  bath  —  was 
the  Aqua?  Patavina?  of  the  Romans,  and  a  resort  still 
more  popular  than  Bat  taglia.1  The  historian  Livy  was 
born  there.   But  to-day  it  is  a  little,  forgotten  village 

1  The  buildings  erected  by  the  ancients  at  A!>ano  were  of  imposing 
grandeur  and  beauty,  —  baths,  palaces,  temples,  theatres,  etc.;  and  in  the 
gardens  of  ber  attractive  villas  countless  great  men  sought  reinvigoration. 
Theodoric  so  appreciated  the  healing  powers  <>f  the  waters  that  he  thor- 
oughly restored  the  then  decaying  edifices.  But  under  the  Lombards,  in 
801,  "  igilulf  burned  the  very  ancient  Baths  of  Abano,  and  destroyed  the 
famoii-.  buildings  raised  there  by  the  Romans."  —  P.  Edancano,  Annalidel 

Frivli. — ■  Now,  in  Consequence,  then-  is  naught  to. sec  there  worth  a  visit. 

There  have  been  recent  excavations,  yielding  returns  of  some  value;  but 
tie-  latter  have  been  carried  away  to  museums. 


560  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

and  the  springs  of  Battaglia  alone  are  still  frequented. 
Ariosto  wrote:  — 

—  'Twixt  Brenta  and  Athesis,  beneath  those  hills 
(Which  erst  the  good  Antenor  so  contented 
With  their  sulphurous  veins  and  liquid  rills, 
And  mead,  and  field,  with  furrows  glad  indented, 
That  he  for  these  left  pools  which  Xanthus  fills, 
And  Ida,  and  Ascanius  long  lamented) 
Till  she  a  child  should  in  the  forests  bear, 
Which  little  distant  from  Ateste  are.1 

The  railway  station  proved  to  be  several  hundred 
yards  west  of  the  village;  but  the  'bus  of  the  Grand 
Hotel  des  Thermes  was  in  waiting,  and  quickly  trans- 
ported me  to  the  first  houses  of  the  borough,  then 
through  a  gateway  on  the  right  into  the  beautiful  park 
of  the  hotel.  I  saw  its  stately  trees  extending  east  to 
the  high  dyke  of  the  Battaglia  Canal,  and  southward 
in  a  magnificent  avenue  half  a  mile  in  length,  to  the 
right  of  whose  termination  soared  a  sugar-loaf  hill 
crowned  by  a  lordly  Renaissance  chateau,  visible  far 
above  the  foliage.  This  was  the  Castello  of  S.  Elena, 
to  which  the  grounds  really  appertained;  and  the 
springs,  I  was  informed,  gushed  forth  at  the  eastern 
foot  of  the  solitary  eminence,  where  the  baths  are  lo- 
cated. The  Grand  Hotel,  then,  was  a  speculative  erec- 
tion by  the  proprietor  of  the  chateau  a  generation  or 
two  ago,  designed  with  its  modern  luxuries  to  form  an 
additional  attraction  for  wealthy  invalids.  It  occupies 
the  northeastern  corner  of  the  park,  facing  toward  the 
street  to  the  station,  with  its  right  wing  overlooking 
the  canal :  an  enormous,  stuccoed  edifice  of  three  sto- 
ries, surrounded  on  the  park  side  by  pleasant  flowered 
gardens,  through  which  winds  the  graveled  drive  to 
its  main  entrance  at  the  southwest  angle. 

From  this  portal,  along  the  south  side  of  the  main 

1  Orlando  Furioso,  canto  xli;  Rose's  translation. 


ROVIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLIA    561 

structure,  extends  a  vast  hallway,  or  winter  garden, 
exceedingly  long  and  broad,  and  so  lofty  that  it  em- 
braces three  tiers  of  windows  on  the  left;  on  the  right 
it  is  lighted  by  a  row  of  glass-closed  arches  as  big  as 
the  choir  windows  of  a  Gothic  cathedral;  the  marble 
pavement  is  covered  with  palms  and  other  potted 
plants,  interspersed  with  statues  and  wicker  tables  and 
chairs.  Here  the  hundreds  of  guests  lounge  away  their 
time;  and  very  pleasant  lounging  I  found  it.  The  great 
windows  open  upon  a  wide  charming  flower-garden, 
backed  by  a  grove  of  forest  monarchs,  amongst  which 
is  seen  a  grassy  mound  topped  by  an  ancient  ruin;  to 
the  west  of  the  grove  commences  the  superb  quadru- 
ple avenue  of  plane  trees  leading  southward  to  the 
baths.  Beyond  this  hall  one  crosses  a  court  to  the  long 
eastern  wing,  stretching  southward,  on  whose  farther 
side  (or  rather,  front)  another  portal  opens  directly 
upon  the  quay  of  the  canal.  Through  this  I  sallied 
forth  soon  after  my  arrival,  —  for  it  was  still  morning, 
—  to  take  a  look  at  the  village. 

Save  for  the  few  houses  along  the  road  to  the  sta- 
tion, I  found  the  hamlet  to  consist  of  two  picturesque 
rows  of  old  buildings  facing  each  other  across  the 
canal,  and  extending  northward  from  the  hotel  for  sev- 
eral hundred  yards;  —  the  most  unique  little  village, 
and  one  of  the  most  pleasing  in  vista,  that  it  has  ever 
been  my  lot  to  encounter.  Except  for  the  architecture 
and  the  absence  of  trees,  it  might  have  been  bodily 
transplanted  from  Holland.  The  recently  painted 
StUCCO  houses,  of  tWO  and  three  stories,  had  also 
much  of  the  neatness  of  the  Dutch.  The  quays  they 
lined  go  solidly  were  only  about  twenty  feet  wide,  bor- 
dered next  the  water  by  stout  brick  parapets;  between 
which,  at  a  depth  of  several  yards,  the  stream  flowed 
peacefully  to  the  north,  mirroring  in  its  surface  the 


562  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

intense  blue  of  the  sky.  It  was  perhaps  twenty  yards 
in  width.  A  graceful  brick  bridge  spanned  it  midway 
of  the  village  with  a  single  high  arch,  mounted  by  steps; 
a  similar  crossing  was  visible  in  the  distance,  beyond 
which  the  vista  was  terminated  by  a  solitary  group  of 
very  tall  poplars,  stripped  of  branches  to  their  tufted 
summits.  The  files  of  dwellings  also  were  relieved  of 
monotonous  lowncss  by  the  lofty  tower  and  drum 
of  the  parochial  church  upon  the  right;  this  exhibited 
a  dignified  Late-Renaissance  fagade,  beside  which  the 
campanile  soared  gracefully  aloft,  in  stucco  trimmed 
with  stone,  to  an  octagonal,  arcaded  belfry  with  a 
Byzantine  cupola. 

A  few  simple  little  shops  occupied  the  ground  floors 
of  the  central  buildings,  and  a  single  country  inn  — 
the  Albergo  Italia  —  displayed  its  sign  on  a  clean, 
comfortable-looking  house.  A  dozen  or  more  of  farm- 
ers' two-wheeled  carts  were  scattered  about  the  quays, 
drawn  by  horses,  oxen,  aud  diminutive  gray  donkeys. 
The  watery  highway  was  deserted  save  for  a  solitary 
old  barge,  blunt-nosed  and  decayed,  but  loaded  with 
fresh  produce,  which  was  being  laboriously  poled  along 
by  a  man  and  a  boy.  —  I  reentered  the  hotel,  passed 
through  to  the  garden,  and  strolled  southward  down 
the  splendid  avenue  of  planes. 

A  broad  expanse  of  turf  led  straightaway  between 
the  two  inner  rows  of  arching  verdure,  flanked  by 
promenades  between  the  outer  rows;  it  was  a  beauti- 
ful vista,  accentuated  bv  the  domed  and  towered  cha- 
teau  on  its  green  knoll  to  the  right.  This  was  built  by 
the  rich  Selvatico  family  of  Venice,  about  1690,  passed 
to  the  ownership  of  the  German  Counts  of  Wimpffen 
about  1850,  and  from  them,  not  long  after,  to  the 
present  Counts  of  Emo,  who  are  likewise  occasionally 
spoken  of  as  the  Conti  di  S.  Elena.    At  the  end  of  the 


ROYIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLIA    563 

avenue  the  buildings  of  their  contadini  appeared  first 
upon  the  right,  in  an  open  field,  —  long  brick  struct- 
ures faced  with  colonnades  of  brick  pillars,  under 
which  were  lofts  for  the  storage  of  grain  and  hay;  and 
some  of  the  laborers  themselves  were  visible  near  by, 
—  men  and  women  clad  in  bright-hued  garments  and 
red  kerchiefs,  reaping  and  raking  a  meadow  of  rich 
grass,  with  light-hearted  song  and  laughter. 

Bevond  this  field  succeeded  the  dense  woodland 
reaching  to  the  hill,  through  which  led  a  graveled 
path  bearing  westward  from  the  avenue's  end.  This 
shady  alley,  as  I  later  found,  led  directly  to  the  bath- 
ing establishment  at  the  foot  of  the  eminence,  passing 
along  the  outer  bank  of  the  narrow  canal  inclosing  the 
private  gardens  of  the  count,  which  occupy  the  middle 
portion  of  the  wood.  A  short  turn  to  the  left  along  the 
eastern  arm  of  this  stream,  brought  me  to  a  point 
affording  an  exquisite  vista  of  the  castle:  the  water 
itself  was  delightfully  banked  with  dense  rose-bushes; 
behind  it  there  opened  through  the  wold  a  long  narrow 
perspective  of  alternating  flower-beds  and  shrubberies, 
framed  on  each  hand  by  ornamental  trees  of  many 
species,  intersected  by  winding  paths;  at  its  far  end 
rose  a  magnificent  flight  of  stone  steps,  climbing  the 
hillside  straightaway  for  over  a  hundred  yards'  ascent, 
between  innumerable  potted  cacti;  and  at  the  summit, 
upon  a  wide  balustraded  terrace,  stood  the  imposing, 
stuccoed  chateau,  with  its  central  dome  and  batllc- 
mented  corner  towers.  These  last  were  square  and 
ponderous,  and  between  them  the  facade  was  orna- 
mented by  ;i  ><>rt  of  two-storied  portico,  of  triple 
arches  divided  by  massive  columns,  approached  by  a 
double  stairway  from  the  terrace.  No  view  more 
charmingly  picturesque  could  be  conceived. 

Circling  the  wall  of  roses  guarding  this  enchanted 


56h  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

ground,  I  found  a  rustic  bridge  upon  the  south  side 
thai  invited  me  within;  strolling  then  through  its  fairy 
glades,  I  reached  finally  a  broad  expanse  of  flower- 
beds only,  extending  along  the  base  of  the  height,  and 
almost  entirely  devoted  to  roses,  —  still  partly  bloom- 
ing. What  could  be  fairer  than  such  a  garden  below 
one's  castle  windows,  at  the  foot  of  its  grand  stairway ! 
The  Stabilmento  dei  Bagni  stood  upon  the  right,  be- 
hind a  stuccoed  wall;  to  the  left  stretched  an  extension 
of  the  wood,  beyond  a  row  of  hot-houses.  This  proved 
to  be  the  loveliest  grove  of  the  park,  intersected  by 
grand  "cathedral  aisles,"  enlivened  by  heavenly  carol- 
ings  from  a  host  of  feathered  songsters.  Here  amongst 
the  oleanders,  ilexes,  and  magnolias,  sleeping  duskily 
under  overhanging  boughs,  I  found  the  four  "lakes," 
or  irregularly  shaped  basins,  within  which  the  saline 
waters  bubble  forth  from  beds  of  mineral  ooze.  Only 
to-day  is  the  secret  of  their  mysterious  healing  powers 
at  last  revealed :  they  are  strongly  radio-active. 

The  Conte  Emo,  I  learned  from  a  gardener,  was 
now  in  residence  at  the  chateau,  so  that  visiting  it  was 
for  the  time  suspended;  later  I  saw  his  three  pretty, 
fair-haired  children,  playing  amongst  the  glades  of  the 
sequestered  weald,  in  the  company  of  a  costumed 
bonne.  Recrossing  the  rose-garden  I  inspected  the 
Stabilmento,  —  a  long,  plain  stuccoed  building  of  two 
stories,  with  a  gateway  at  its  left  leading  to  a  small 
grotto  in  the  base  of  the  hill,  where  two  hot  springs 
gurgled  from  the  rocks  into  hewn  basins,  from  which 
steam  arose  in  clouds.  Cups  attached  to  chains  showed 
that  here  the  habitues  drink  their  daily  potions.  At 
this  season,  however,  none  wrere  to  be  seen;  they  flock 
here  in  the  winter-time  and  the  spring,  —  the  present 
guests  of  the  hotel  being  the  last  of  the  summer  so- 
journers. 


ROYIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLIA    565 

Within  the  building  the  keeper  showed  me  the  bath- 
rooms, with  their  individual  modern  tubs,  and  couches 
for  massaging;  the  lounging  room  in  the  centre;  the 
cooling  reservoirs  of  water;  the  bedrooms  upstairs  for 
those  too  ill  to  stay  at  the  hotel;  and  finally,  in  the  hill- 
side at  the  back,  the  two  large  grottoes,  or  rather  caves, 
raised  to  a  fearful  temperature  by  the  steam  from  the 
boiling  springs.  Here  the  patients  linger  from  eight  to 
twenty  minutes,  passing  from  the  less  heated  cave 
to  the  greater;  then  they  enter  the  outer  chambers  to 
be  douched  and  massaged.  The  very  same  method,  as 
far  as  can  be  known,  and  pursued  on  the  very  same 
spot,  in  the  identical  grottoes,  used  by  the  ancient  Ro- 
mans, —  whose  long  white  robes,  in  fact,  still  wrap  the 
courageous  bathers. 

In  the  cool  of  the  afternoon  I  set  forth  again, through 
the  village,  northward  along  the  dike  of  the  canal,  to 
the  Castle  of  Cattajo.  This  famous  relic  of  the  Renais- 
sance period  has  a  double  interest,  as  being  the  only 
Veneto  residence  remaining  to  that  princely  family 
which  once  owned  the  whole  district,  —  the  House  of 
Este.  It  was  first  erected  by  the  wealthy  Obizzi,  of 
Padua,  by  whose  name  it  was  long  known,  and  from 
the  Estensi  it  finally  passed  to  the  possession  of  the 
Austrian  branch  of  their  house,  which  alone  survives. 
It,  however,  is  in  reality  Fstense  through  the  distaff 
only:  Beatrice,  the  sole  child  of  Duke  Ercole  III,  the 
lasl  ruling  prince  of  Modena  and  Eteggio  (died  1803), 
married  the  Archduke  Ferdinand,  of  the  younger 
branch  <»f  the  Souse  of  Austria,  who  came  therefore 
into  possession  of  thai  duchy  <>n  the  fall  <>f  Napoleon. 
IIi>  descendants,  I  hough  I  hey  losl  I  he  duchy  again  by 
the   unification   <»f   Italy,   have   retained  the  name  of 

Este.  Tin'  presenl  representative  of  the  name,  Arch- 
duke   Francis    Ferdinand,    confines    himself    to    his 


olid  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Austrian  estates,  not  having  visited  Cattajo,  I  was 
told,  for  a  space  of  fourteen  years. 

My  way  led  along  the  stream's  eastern  bank,  through 
a  rich  and  beautiful  countryside,  ennobled  by  the 
lofty  hills  looming  closely  on  the  west.  A  picturesque 
farmhouse  was  passed  on  the  water's  edge,  ensconsed 
in  trees,  quickened  by  numerous  geese  and  ducks  pad- 
dling noisily  along  the  shore.  A  quarter  of  an  hour's 
walking  brought  the  castle  into  sight,  perched  majes- 
tically on  the  left  behind  a  broad  deep  fosse,  and 
backed  by  a  densely  wooded  hillside  on  the  north.  It 
was  an  imposing  spectacle:  an  enormous  rectangle  of 
cream-colored  stucco,  three  stories  in  height,  whose 
top  windows  were  visible  over  the  battlements  of  the 
southern  wall  of  enceinture,  —  which  was  three  or  four 
times  as  long  as  the  eastern  front;  at  its  northeastern 
corner  rose  the  original,  earlier  building,  shaped  gen- 
erally like  a  giant  cube  five  stories  in  height,  con- 
structed of  yellow,  stained,  and  crumbling  stucco;  its 
bare  walls  with  their  simple  oblong  windows  were 
crested  by  no  relieving  cornice,  but  grimly  crenel- 
ated.1 Sentry  boxes  stood  at  intervals  along  the 
extended  southern  parapet,  significant  of  the  days  of 
incessant  war.  Picturesqueness  was  added  by  the  lofty 
woodland  sweeping  close  behind,  and  the  shrouding 
grove  of  smaller  trees  cresting  the  inner  bank  of  the 
vast  fosse.  The  latter  was  spanned  by  a  graceful  brick 
bridge  of  three  large  arches,  adorned  at  the  eastern 
end  by  an  ornamental  stone  gateway,  and  at  the  west- 
ern by  two  massive  pillars  holding  heroic  statues  of 
Hercules  and  Silenus. 

1  Behind  this  again,  on  the  upper  part  of  the  isolated  hill,  concealed  by 
its  thick  groves  of  tall  trees,  stands  the  preceding  fortified  residence  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  —  a  ruinous,  frowning  old  keep  of  dark  stone,  distinguishable 
only  from  the  sunken  gardens  on  the  south. 


ROVIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLIA    567 

When  I  reached  and  advanced  upon  this  bridge,  I 
saw  a  private  road  leading  straight  westward  from  it 
before  the  long  southern  wall,  evidently  crossing  the 
estates  to  the  slopes  of  the  hills  several  miles  distant. 
To  the  right  of  the  statued  pillars  extended  the  castle's 
eastern  front,  rising  upon  a  stone-banked  terrace 
overlooking  the  deep  moat,  which  carried  a  parapet 
crowned  with  a  row  of  huge  stone  balls,  and  a  grove  of 
low  but  stout  evergreens  cut  into  sugar-loaf  forms. 
These  evidences  of  Renaissance  culture  contrasted 
forcibly  with  the  grim,  lofty,  battlemented  facade 
behind,  soaring  "much  in  the  style  of  the  old  castles 
of  Provence.  Lofty  rooms,"  wrote  Eustace,  "long 
galleries,  winding  staircases,  and  dark  passages,  fit  it 
admirably  for  the  purposes  of  a  novelist,  and  render  it 
equally  proper  for  the  abode  of  a  great  baron,  for  the 
receptacle  of  a  band  of  robbers,  for  the  scene  of  nightly 
murders,  or  for  the  solitary  walk  of  ghosts  and  of  spec- 
tres." * 

On  crossing  the  bridge,  the  wide  sunken  gardens  of 
the  chateau  were  revealed  to  the  left  of  the  road,  strik- 
ingly embellished  with  ordered  flowerbeds,  hedges, 
potted  plants,  shrubberies,  orangeries,  clumps  of  mag- 
nolias, groves  and  avenues  of  stately  trees,  and  pretty 
basins  of  water,  —  stretching  away  for  many  acres  to 
the  south  and  west.  On  this  fair  prospect  looked  down 
the  upper  windows,  over  the  battlements  of  the  south- 
ern wall.  In  the  latter  appeared  the  main  entrance, — 
a  monumental  Renaissance  archway  two  stories  in 
height,  adorned  with  four  Doric  half-columns,  two 
statues  a1  the  sides,  and  four  weather-beaten  statues 

1  Euitace,  Classical  Tour  through  Italy,  vol.  I.  —  How  the  reality  <>f  all 
this,  be  might  have  added,  would  have  delighted  the  terror-loving  aoul  of 
Mr,.  Etadcliffe;  it  would  surely  have  inspired  her  with  a  tale  more  weird 
and  dreadful  than  the  Mysteries  <>f  Udolpho,—  which,  for  that  matter, 

might  well  itself  have  Immti  placed  lure. 


568  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

on  the  top.    Beyond  it  the  southern  wall  continued 
westward  for  three  hundred  yards  and  more,  relieved 
by  crenelated  towers  at  its  middle  and  farther  corner. 
Near  the  first  of  these  was  an  open  gateway,  entering 
which  I  found  myself  in  an  outer  court  of  almost  equal 
length,  extending  between  the  wall  and  the  castle;  to 
the  right  there  mounted  a  flight  of  stone  steps  to  a 
high  balustraded  terrace  shaded  by  rows  of  clipped 
evergreens,  and  decorated  by  Doric  columns  tipped 
with  stone  balls,  —  the  private  garden  of  the  seigneurs. 
The  custodian,  who  now  appeared,  informed  me  that 
visitors  were  not  at  present  admitted,  because  the  Arch- 
duke was  engaged  in  transferring  to  Austria  all  of  the 
chateau's  portable  objects  d'art,  and  everything  was  in 
confusion.   As  evidence  I  saw  numerous  packing-cases 
lying  about,  and  sculptures  nailed  up  in  crates.  The 
collection  of  antiquities,  I  knew,  had  been  transported 
to  Vienna  in  1895:  this  further  stripping  would  leave 
the  historic  place  with  naught  but  the  valueless  por- 
tion of  its  old  furniture,  and  the  frescoes  on  the  walls; 
it  was  saddening,  —  and  a  proof  of  the  Archduke's 
decision  to  return  here  no  more.    I  asked  if  he  were 
here  now,  and  learned  that  only  his  orders  had  arrived. 
It  was  a  disappointment  which  no  offers  of  mine 
—  strange  to  say  —  had  any  success  in  overcoming; 
and  I  trust  that  other  travelers  will  be  more  fortunate. 
The  three  fine  portraits  on  canvas  by  Paolo  Veronese 
may  have  vanished,  but  his  large  ceiling-painting  will 
remain,  which  covers  one  of  the  royal  suite  of  five  grand 
salons;  these  are  otherwise  decorated  by  a  magnificent 
series  of  frescoes  by  Zelotti,  depicting  the  achieve- 
ments and  the  glorification  of  the  Obizzi;  and  in  the 
private  chapel,  or  Oratorio  di  S.  Michele,  there  should 
remain  a  number  of  good  pictures  by  the  Venetian 
school  of  the  later  cinquecento.  —  But  though  I  failed 


ARQUA.     A  PEASANT'S   HOUSE 


LRQUA.     PARISH    CHURCH    A.ND    PETRARCH'S  TOMB. 


ROYIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLL\    569 

in  this,  I  was  amply  repaid  for  my  walk  by  a  long  stroll 
through  the  sunken  gardens,  which  yielded  new  and 
varied  beauties  at  every  turn  of  the  paths;  the  woods 
alone  were  delightful,  composed  of  monarchs  of  vast 
age  and  size;  and  the  views  afforded  of  the  full  extent 
of  the  great  chateau  were  picturesque  beyond  the  or- 
dinary, revealing  over  the  main  buildings  the  mighty 
old  keep  and  embattled  fortress  concealed  in  the 
bushy  elms  of  the  upper  hillside. 

As  I  walked  slowly  back  to  Battaglia  in  the  sunset 
hour,  my  gaze  was  turned  upon  those  lovely  green  hills 
so  close  upon  the  right,  "still  retaining  the  name  of 
one  of  the  earliest  tribes  that  peopled  Paduan  terri- 
tory. .  .  .  They  were  formerly,  it  seems,  inhabited 
by  a  race  of  soothsayers,  who  vied  with  the  Tuscans 
in  the  art  of  looking  into  futurity."  x  How  proper, 
then,  that  they  should  have  become  the  final  residence 
of  that  grandest  of  all  seers,  whom  Symonds  called 
"the  great  awakener  of  Europe  from  mental  lethargy, 
—  the  apostle  of  scholarship,  the  inaugurator  of  the 
humanistic  impulse  of  the  fifteenth  century."  In  their 
verdurous  recesses  high  above  the  plain,  Petrarch 
spent  the  last  five  years  of  that  wonderful  life  which 
struck  off  the  age-long  fetters  of  the  human  intellect, 
and  ushered  mankind  into  the  rebirth  of  its  mentality. 
To-morrow  I  should  make  my  pilgrimage  to  that 
sacred  shrine,  where  the  poet's  genius  blazed  its  last 
fire  upon  the  adoring  world;  —  my  final  pilgrimage, 
of  all  these  months  of  journeying,  which  had  brought 
me  thus  back,  in  an  enormous  circle,  to  the  point  of 
my  departure.  Over  there  to  the  northeast,  I  could 
almost  see  upon  the  level  horizon  the  domes  and 
towers  of  Venice,  whence  I  had  started.  Since  they 
receded  from  my  view,  I  had  visited  all  that  hinterland 

1  Eustace,  Classical  Tour,  vol.  I. 


570  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

which  she  so  gloriously  made  her  own,  and  the  scores 
of  towns  and  cities  that  bore  in  their  piazzas  the  white 
Lion  of  St.  Mark.  Venetia  had  been  traversed  from 
end  to  end,  presenting  to  my  retrospection  one  vast 
exposition  of  the  arts  and  science  of  the  Renaissance. 
What  more  fitting  end  to  all  this  wandering,  then, 
than  a  pilgrimage  to  the  tomb  of  that  immortal  who 
opened  to  men  the  gates  of  this  world  of  culture. 

On  the  shoulder  of  one  of  those  fair  hills  reposed 
that  tomb,  and  close  by  it  the  modest  home  in  which 
the  great  poet  breathed  his  last;  that  home  to  which 
Francesco  della  Carrara  the  elder  so  often  repaired 
for  consultation  and  advice,  and  so  many  illustrious 
men  came  to  sit  at  the  feet  of  genius.  It  is  difficult  for 
one  not  a  student  to  comprehend  what  a  tremendous 
influence  was  diffused  from  that  humble  house  through 
the  Italian  world  of  the  trecento,  an  influence  which  has 
ever  since  gone  on  widening  and  increasing.  Petrarch 
had  "inspired  ideas  and  modes  of  thought  which  pre- 
ceding scholars  had  possessed  in  their  own  brains, 
but  could  not  communicate  to  society."  1  "The  study 
of  Latin  writers  had  never  been  wrholly  neglected  in 
Italy;  but  Petrarch  introduced  a  more  profound, 
liberal,  and  elegant  scholarship,  and  communicated  to 
his  countrymen  that  enthusiasm  for  the  literature,  the 
history,  and  the  antiquities  of  Rome,  which  divided 
his  own  heart  with  a  frigid  mistress  and  a  more  frigid 
muse."  2  "He  was  the  first  to  understand  the  value 
of  public  libraries,  the  first  to  accumulate  coins  and 
inscriptions  as  the  sources  of  accurate  historical  in- 
formation, the  first  to  preach  the  duty  of  preserving 
ancient  monuments."  3 

1  H.  C.  Hollway-Calthorp,  Petrarch;  Tlis  Life  and  Times. 
-   Macaulay,  Essays  on  Mackiavelli,  and  Petrarch. 
3  Symonds,  Revival  of  Learning. 


ROYIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLIA    571 

"With  Petrarch,  and  because  of  him,  the  classical 
spirit  resumed  its  sway.  .  .  .  Charm  defies  analysis. 
It  is  evident  from  his  whole  career  that  he  possessed 
both  intellectual  and  personal  charm  to  a  rare  degree; 
he  fascinated  men's  imagination  and  fired  their  hearts. 
Entire  strangers  came  as  pilgrims  —  and  having  seen 
the  poet,  went  back  to  spread  the  fame  of  him  through 
all  lands.  So  his  reputation  grew,  and  his  influence 
became  more  potent  every  day;  and  the  studies  that 
he  loved,  from  being  the  monopoly  of  a  handful  of 
scholars,  became  the  inspiration  of  the  world's  cul- 
ture." *  "  From  this  time,  the  admiration  of  learning 
and  genius  became  almost  an  idolatry  among  the  people 
of  Italy.  Kings  and  republics,  cardinals  and  doges, 
vied  with  each  other  in  honoring  and  flattering  Pe- 
trarch. Embassies  from  rival  states  solicited  the  honor 
of  his  instructions.  His  coronation  agitated  the  Court 
of  Naples  and  the  people  of  Rome  as  much  as  the  most 
important  political  transaction  could  have  done.  .  .  . 
To  the  man  who  had  extended  the  dominion  of  her 
ancient  language  —  who  had  erected  the  trophies  of 
philosophy  and  imagination  in  the  haunts  of  ignorance 
and  ferocity  -  -  whose  spoils  were  the  treasures  of  an- 
cient genius  rescued  from  obscurity  and  decay  —  the 
Eternal  City  offered  the  just  and  glorious  tribute  of 
her  gratitude.  .  •  •  He  who  had  restored  the  broken 
link  between  the  two  ages  of  human  civilization  was 
crowned  with  the  wreatli  which  he  deserved  from  the 
moderns  who  owed  to  him  their  refinement,  from  the 
ancients  who  owed  to  him  their  lame."  2 

It  wasal  theheighl  of  this  celebrity  and  power  that 
Petrarch  came  to  dwell  at  Padua,  and  shortly  after- 
ward, tired  of  the  life  of  court  and  city,  retired  to  "the 
hospitable  house  of  the  Augustinian  friars  at  Arqua. 

1    H.<\  IIollw.iy-<  'altliorp,  soprn.  l  Mucaulay,  supra. 


572  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

He  was  so  charmed  with  the  beauty  of  the  place,  that 
he  got  Lombardo  da  Serico  to  negotiate  for  the  pur- 
chase of  a  plot  of  ground,  comprising  a  vineyard 
and  an  orchard  of  olives  and  other  fruit  trees.  Here 
he  built  a  house,  which  still  stands,  structurally  un- 
altered, and  bears  witness  to  the  simplicity  of  his 
domestic  habits  and  his  appreciation  of  beautiful 
scenery."  1  This  was  in  1369.  Francesco  della  Carrara 
senior,  the  Despot  of  Padua,  who,  like  his  predecessor, 
Jacopo  II,  always  manifested  towards  Petrarch  a 
peculiar  reverence  and  affection,  frequently  took  his 
place  in  the  stream  of  pilgrims  which  henceforth 
wended  steadily  to  Arqua;  and  that  Petrarch  returned 
the  esteem,  became  evident  when  he  left  for  a  while 
this  beloved  retirement  to  go  as  Francesco's  envoy 
to  Venice,  and  there  secured  peace  for  him  from  the 
menacing  Senate.  That  memorable  occasion  was  the 
poet's  last  appearance  in  the  world.  On  the  morning 
of  his  seventieth  birthday,  July  20, 1374,  he  was  found 
in  his  library  sleeping  his  last  sleep,  with  an  open  book 
on  the  desk  before  him. 

Early  upon  the  following  morning  I  was  en  voiture, 
and  driving  down  the  canal-road  on  my  way  to  Arqua. 
The  cloudless  sky  presaged  one  of  those  glorious  days 
that  often  bless  the  Italian  autumn.  The  route  fol- 
lowed the  crest  of  the  dike  southward  for  a  mile  or  so, 
toward  the  isolated  cone  of  Monselice,  plainly  visible 
across  the  plain,  then  turned  directly  westward  to  the 
hills.  The  land  that  we  traversed  was  of  the  usual 
deep  fertility,  sparsely  dotted  with  stuccoed  farm- 
houses of  modern  look,  —  small,  poverty-marked 
dwellings,  attached  to  barns  faced  by  porticoes  of 
brick  pillars,  which  sheltered  empty  lofts  for  grain 

1  H.  C.  Hollway-Calthorp,  sopra. 


ROVIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLIA    573 

and  hay.  This  sad  poverty  of  crop  and  people  was 
vastly  increased  all  over  Venetia  and  Lombardy  of  late 
years,  ever  since  the  great  blights  that  began  to  strike 
the  vines  and  the  silkworms  in  the  middle  of  the  past 
century.  Those  blights,  a  direct  result  of  the  extermina- 
tion of  the  birds,  destroyed  at  their  first  attack  prac- 
tically all  the  vines  of  the  plain,  which  till  then  had 
been  among  the  sweetest  and  most  delicate  of  Italy, 
and  in  subsequent  attacks  have  devastated  the  re- 
plantings  again  and  again,  so  that  the  vintages  of  to- 
day are  not  a  third  of  what  they  once  were,  and  their 
products  are  coarse  and  heavy.  These  wines,  now  so 
inferior  to  the  once  despised  Piedmont  vintages,  that 
the  latter  constitute  the  delicacy  of  the  present,  are 
yet  so  dear  that  the  peasants  can  no  longer  drink  them 
save  on  grand  occasions.  The  last  blight  I  had  my- 
self seen  in  this  very  year,  —  the  grapes  hanging  gray 
and  withered  throughout  so  many  sections  that  their 
produce  would  amount  to  almost  nothing.  As  for  the 
silkworms  and  the  mulberry  trees,  they  too  have 
steadily  suffered  from  increasing  insect  scourges,  that 
have  reduced  many  districts  to  destitution.  When  one 
adds  tin-  terrible  summer  hailstorms,  which  have  be- 
come much  more  frequent  of  late  years,  the  reasons 
{<>]•  poverty  are  apparent. 

But  behind  these  physical  afflictions  lie  the  condi- 
tions of  peasant  life  tliat  have  kept  the  tillers  of  the 
soil  from  rising  up  again  \\iih  new  determination: 
firstly,  their  profound  ignorance,  and  use  of  antedi- 
luvian met  hods;  secondly,  their  unhappy  subjection 
to  usurers,  in  the  absence  of  any  sensible  system  of 
finance;  thirdly,  the  wretched  system  of  taxation,  and 
it>  heaviness,  which  press  hardest  of  all  upon  the 
farmer;  fourthly,  and  chiefly,  ih<'  conditions  of  land 
ownership  and  tenure.     Nearly  all  of  the  plain  is  still 


574  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

in  the  hands  of  large  proprietors,  to  an  unhappy 
extent  absentees,  whose  broad  acres  are  looked  after 
by  a  class  of  middlemen,  or  factors.  From  these  the 
peasants  rent  their  little  farms,  which  usually  have 
been  in  the  tenancy  of  the  same  family  for  genera- 
tions; but  those  who  pay  their  rent  entirely  in  money 
are  as  rare  as  the  individual  peasant  proprietors, 
whose  numbers  have  been  greatly  reduced  by  the 
hard  times.  A  fair  percentage  pay  partly  in  money, 
partly  in  wheat  or  other  crops,  —  which  is  called  the 
contralto  misto.  The  mezzaria  system,  which  prevails 
in  Tuscany  and  central  Italy,  is  more  used  upon  the 
plain  than  any  other:  by  it  the  landlord  furnishes  the 
land  and  buildings,  the  repairs,  the  draft  animals,  and 
occasionally  certain  implements,  and  receives  one-half 
the  crops,  —  from  which  again  he  has  to  pay  the  taxes; 
when  oxen  die  or  vines  wither,  he  has  to  replace  them, 
and  when  crops  fail,  from  hail  or  blight,  he  has  to  supply 
provisions  to  keep  his  contadini  alive.  This  system 
did  very  well  in  the  old  times  of  plenty,  but  of  late 
it  has  impoverished  the  owners  and  tenants  together, 
the  latter  falling  continually  deeper  in  debt  to  the 
former,  who  receive  little  or  no  income. 

The  other  forms  of  contract,  variations  of  this  sys- 
tem, are  beyond  enumeration,  altering  with  every 
district  and  nearly  every  estate;  the  differences  being 
in  the  things  which  the  proprietor  is  bound  to  furnish, 
and  the  varying  shares  into  which  the  different  crops 
are  to  be  divided.  But  all  these  methods* have  achieved 
the  same  result,  —  an  ignorant,  improvident  de- 
pendence on  and  indebtedness  to  the  master,  who  is 
thus  pulled  downhill  along  with  his  tenants.  Under 
such  conditions  a  single  disaster  —  a  blight,  a  fire, 
or  hailstorm  —  sends  the  peasant  to  the  village 
usurer  for  money  to  buy  new  implements  or  stock,  or 


ROVIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLIA    575 

even  clothes  and  food;  and  having  taken  this  down- 
ward step,  he  can  never  recover  himself,  but  ends 
in  complete  ruination.  The  equal  division  of  land 
which  the  Italian  law  enforces  between  all  the  heirs 
of  a  decedent  owner,  has  greatly  added  to  this  evil 
state  of  affairs,  by  its  continual  parceling  out  of  farms 
into  smaller  and  smaller  pieces,  with-the  concomitant 
changes  in  tenancy  and  heavy  transfer  taxes. 

The  peasants,  it  is  well  known,  no  longer  have  the 
stamina  to  work  as  they  once  did,  on  account  of  their 
impoverished  diet;  this  again  results  in  poorer  crops, 
and  still  less  food.  They  live  chiefly,  save  in  the 
Lombard  wheat  districts,  on  polenta,  or  corn  flour, 
with  the  addition  of  a  little  rice,  and  cabbages,  turnips, 
onions,  or  other  cheap  vegetables,  generally  eaten 
raw,  or  in  soup.  Eggs,  chickens,  cheese,  and  meat 
are  too  dear  for  home  consumption,  save  on  rare  festas; 
and  then  only  do  they  take  a  little  of  the  coarse  wine, 
which  does  not  suffice,  as  did  the  former  abundance 
and  fine  quality,  to  make  up  for  the  deficiences  of  their 
diet.  As  for  coffee  and  tea,  they  are  practically  un- 
known; even  salt  is  a  grudged  luxury,  so  heavily  is  it 
taxed.  The  farm  servants  fare  worse  than  their  mas- 
ters, receiving  their  wages  in  the  shape  of  the  simplest 
possible  food,  with  lodging,  firewood,  and  a  fraction 
of  the  crops  they  raise.  In  such  a  state  of  society  it 
is  not  ;t  matter  for  wonder  thai  the  educated  parish 
priest-  obtain  an  emolument  of  only  l>20  a  year,  and 
fall  victims  to  the  pellagra  with  their  Hocks.   It  is  easy 

to  see  how  the  noble  landlords  of  the  Yenelo,  who  had 
already  incurred  BO  many  sacrifices  under  the  Aus- 
Irians  and  the  llisoriji niciilo,  through  their  patriotism, 

have  since  then  been  gradually  reduced  to  comparative 

penury.  And  One  can  judge  how  vastly  were  needed 
those  model  farms  with  modern  met  hods,  established 


57 G  PLAIN-TOWNS   OF   ITALY 

by  Marchese  Stangi  and  Baron  Franchetti,  near  Cre- 
mona and  Mantua,  to  prove  to  Italians  that  the  fault 
has  lain  with  the  men,  not  the  soil,  and  that  the  an- 
cient  adage  is  still  true,  —  "  La  vanga  ha  la  punta 

oro.     1 

"The  drive  to  Arqua,"  wrote  Symonds,  "takes 
one  through  a  country  which  is  tenderly  beautiful, 
becauseof  its  contrast  between  little  peaked  mountains 
and  the  plain.  It  is  not  a  grand  landscape.  ...  Its 
charm  is  a  certain  mystery  and  repose,  —  an  unde- 
fined sense  of  the  neighboring  Adriatic,  a  pervading 
consciousness  of  Venice  unseen,  but  felt  from  far 
away."  2  The  description  of  the  final  approach  written 
by  Hobhouse  (later  Lord  Broughton)  when  he  and 
Byron  made  their  visit  of  September,  1817,  presents 
an  accurate  picture:  "Across  a  flat,  well-wooded 
meadow,  you  come  to  a  little  blue  lake,  clear  but 
fathomless,  and  to  the  foot  of  a  succession  of  acclivi- 
ties and  hills,  clothed  with  vineyards  and  orchards, 
rich  with  fir  and  pomegranate  trees,  and  every  sunny 
forest  shrub.  From  the  banks  of  the  lake  the  road 
winds  into  the  hills,  and  the  church  of  Arqua  is  soon 
seen  between  a  cleft  where  two  ridges  slope  towards 
each  other,  and  nearly  inclose  the  village.  The  houses 
are  scattered  at  intervals  on  the  steep  sides  of  these 
summits."  3  All  this  is  more  than  a  thousand  feet 
above  the  plain,  —  a  long  slow  climb,  —  on  the  slope 
of  the  great  hill  sustaining  the  twin  peaks. 

Mounting  thus  from  the  east  into  the  straggling 
hamlet,  but  a  few  houses  had  been  passed  when  we 
debouched  suddenly  into  a  piazza  upon  a  small  pla- 
teau somewhat  below  the  notch,  extending  to  the  left 

1  "The  spade  has  the  point  of  gold." 

2  J.  A.  Symonds,  Sketches  and  Studies  in  Italy. 

»  Broughton,  Remarks  Made  in  Several  Visits  to  Italy. 


ROYIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLIA    577 

from  the  narrow  street;  at  its  end,  upon  a  broad  ter- 
race flanked  by  cypresses,  behind  a  semicircular 
yard  inclosed  by  a  stone-capped  parapet,  stood  the 
queer  old  parochial  church,  built  of  stucco,  painted  a 
soft  blue.  Its  central  body  appeared  a  simple  cube, 
a  story  and  a  half  in  height,  in  which  opened  two  cor- 
niced doorways  topped  by  fan-lights;  at  its  sides  were 
small  square  wings  of  a  single  story,  containing  two 
shorter  doorways  topped  by  round  lights;  and  over 
the  left  of  these,  in  the  rear,  rose  the  modest,  stuccoed 
campanile,  —  its  single-arched  belfry,  adorned  with 
pilasters,  being  surmounted  by  an  octagonal  lantern 
with  a  Byzantine  cupola.  In  the  centre  of  the  rounded 
fore-court  stood  the  tomb  of  Petrarch. 

I  glanced,  as  I  dismounted  from  the  vettura,  at  the 
two  buildings  flanking  the  piazza:  that  to  the  left  was 
a  ruinous  Gothic  palazzo,  evidently  now  used  as  a  barn, 
holding  in  its  upper  floor  many  fair  ogive  trefoil 
windows,  of  stucco  frames  with  terra-cotta  labels,  — 
double-arched  on  the  facade,  with  slender  stone  shafts, 
and  single-arched  at  the  sides;  that  to  the  right  was 
the  village  inn,  an  aged,  two-storied,  stucco  building, 
carrying  the  sign,  —  "  Albergo-Trattoria-al  Petrarco." 
Before  its  northern  side  the  street  continued  up  the 
hill  to  the  notch;  into  the  yard  at  its  southern  side 
my  vetturino  disappeared  with  his  horse.  As  I  ad- 
vanced to  the  churchyard  the  unique  beauty  of  its 
position  was  revealed:  the  terrace  on  which  it  lay 
was  raised  between  steep  descent s,  • — that  on  the  left 
being  covered  with  massed  orange  trees,  from  which 
soared  two  <>f  the  tall  pointed  cypresses,  while  on  the 
right  fell  a  roadway  from  the  face  of  the  inn,  to  a 
line  of  dwellings  down  the  slope.  The  other  three 
Cypresses  rose  from  a  narrow  I erraee  between  it  and 
the  court  parapet. 


578  PLAIN  TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

Over  this  southern  declivity  of  the  mountain,  then, 
the  church  was  perched  on  a  narrow  shoulder,  looking 
straight  down  into  the  valley,  which  opens  eastward 
into  the  plain.  Over  the  orangery  on  the  left  I  saw 
the  variegated  beauties  far  below,  —  the  rich,  check- 
ered fields,  the  patches  of  yellow  foliage,  and  the 
gleaming  farmhouses  and  hamlets,  —  which  clam- 
bered also  up  the  opposite  mountainside,  and  spread 
eastward  from  the  vale  into  the  hazy,  distant  level 
of  the  plain.  To  the  right  my  gaze  was  higher  led, 
to  the  twin  summits  just  above,  encircled  by  their 
joint  necklace  of  bright  stuccoed  dwellings,  which 
in  spite  of  their  vivid  hues  were  clearly  of  mouldering 
age,  —  save  only  two  huge  modern  structures  of  cream 
color,  at  the  extreme  left.  Some  of  the  old  buildings 
penetrated  the  cleft,  where  another  church  was  pic- 
turesquely posed.  A  third  churchly  edifice,  of  imme- 
morial age,  lay  at  my  feet  across  the  falling  road,  the 
plaster  long  crumbled  from  its  medieval  stones;  the 
pointed  arch  of  its  portal,  and  those  of  the  four  tre- 
foil windows  above  —  the  central  one  double-arched, 
the  fourth  in  the  gable  —  showed  an  erection  of  the 
early  Gothic  period.  Now  it  was  a  ruinous  dwelling, 
which  added  to  its  quaint  appearance. 

With  this  glance  around,  I  stepped  up  to  the  storied 
sepulchre,  —  a  sense  of  veneration  strong  upon  me,  at 
the  realization  that  I  stood  in  the  presence  of  that 
illustrious  dust,  greater  than  all  the  princes  of  earth. 
It  was  surrounded  by  an  iron  railing,  upheld  by  four 
stone  posts  at  the  corners;  upon  a  plain  double  base 
rose  the  four  stocky,  quadrangular  pillars  sustaining 
the  large  sarcophagus,  of  simple  Paduan  form.  All 
was  of  red  Verona  marble;  but  on  the  front  centre  of 
the  gabled  lid,  some  eight  or  nine  feet  from  the  ground, 
stood  a  bronze  bust  of  the  poet,  above  a  bronze  scroll. 


ROVIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLIA    579 

There  was  no  other  adornment,  beyond  the  Latin 
inscriptions.  Three  more  inscriptions  and  a  shield  of 
arms  hung  on  the  church's  facade  directly  behind, 
one  of  which  commemorated  the  celebration  of  the 
fifth  centenary  of  the  poet's  death,  held  here  by  United 
Italy  on  July  18,  1874.  The  entire  simplicity  of  this 
monument  was  most  satisfying,  aggrandized  as  it  is 
by  its  lofty,  wind-swept  throne,  girdled  by  the  eter- 
nal volcanic  hills.  "Fit  resting-place,"  said  Symonds, 
"for  what  remains  to  earth  of  such  a  poet's  clay!  It 
is  as  though  archangels,  flying,  had  carried  the  marble 
chest  and  set  it  down  here  on  the  hillside,  to  be  a  sign 
and  sanctuary  for  after-men.  Bending  here,  we  feel 
that  Petrarch's  own  winged  thoughts  and  fancies, 
eternal  and  aerial,  have  congregated  to  be  the  ever- 
ministering  and  irremovable  attendants  over  the 
shrine."1 

It  is  a  late  day  to  quote  those  beautiful  lines  which 
Byron  wrote  after  that  first  visit  of  1817;  but  what 
account  of  this  place  would  be  complete  without  a 
reference  to  them?  — 

Tin-re  is  a  tomb  in  Arqua;  reared  in  air, 

Pillared  in  their  sarcophagus,  repose 

The  bones  of  Laura's  lover.    .   .   .   lie  arose 

To  raisi-  a  language,  and  bis  land  reclaim 

From  the  dull  yoke  <>f  her  barbaric  foes. 

Water  iri),'  the  tree  which  Wears  his  lady's  name 

With  his  melodious  tears,  he  gave  himself  to  fame.2 

It  was  the  poel  Petrarch,  the  singer  of  a  hopeless 
love,  thai  appealed  to  Byron  ralher  tlian  the  scholar. 
He  came  later  Upon  a  second  visit,  "when  he  brought 

the  lady  of  his  love,"  the  fair  Contessa  Guiccioli;  — 

"she  who  knows  his  sonnets  by  heart,"  said  Byron, 
"and  who  recites  them  as  only  an  Italian  month  can. 

1  J.  A.  Symonds,  topra,  2  ('/tilth-  HaroUTi  Pilgrimage,  iv,  xxx. 


5S0  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF  ITALY 

.  .  .  Petrarch  is  the  poetical  idol  of  the  women  of 
Italy."  l  'Though  Dante  was  an  admirable  sonnet- 
eer," wrote  Sidney  Lee,  "it  was  his  successor,  Pe- 
trarch, whose  example  gave  the  sonnet  its  lasting 
vogue  in  Europe.  .  .  .  Every  sonneteer  of  western 
Europe  acknowledged  Petrarch  to  be  his  master;  and 
from  Petrarchian  inspiration  came  the  form  and  much 
of  the  spirit  of  Shakespeare's  sonnets."  2 

As  I  gazed  upon  the  tomb,  I  thought  of  that  sad 
day  of  1374  when  the  bard's  remains  were  carried  here 
from  his  house.  The ' '  funeral  was  celebrated  with  great 
pomp;  Francesco  da  Carrara  might  be  trusted  to  see 
to  that.  He  himself  attended,  with  a  train  of  cour- 
tiers; four  bishops  took  part  in  the  ceremony,  and  the 
bier  was  carried  by  sixteen  doctors  of  law.  Petrarch's 
body  was  dressed  in  a  red  gown,  —  according  to  some, 
the  royal  robe  which  Robert  of  Naples  had  given 
him  for  his  crowning,  according  to  others,  the  dress 
of  a  Canon  of  Padua.  .  .  .  The  sarcophagus  [was] 
constructed  by  his  son-in-law."  Long  afterward,  "at 
a  time  when  the  tomb  stood  in  need  of  repair,  an 
arm  was  stolen  [by  a  Florentine,  through  a  rent  still 
visible]  which  is  said  to  be  now  preserved  at  Madrid ; 
and  among  the  relics  kept  in  Petrarch's  house,  the 
caretaker  shows  with  misplaced  satisfaction  a  box 
which  contains  one  of  the  poet's  fingers."  3  This,  how- 
ever, is  the  only  disturbance  that  the  remains  have 
suffered. 

Entering  the  church,  I  found  it  cubical  in  form, 
with  a  cubical  high-altar  recess  on  the  east  side,  and 
an  organ-loft  on  the  west  side,  supported  on  four  gray 

1  The  Countess  of  Blessington,  The  Idler  in  Italy  (1828). 
1  Sidney  Lee  on  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  in  his  Great  Englishmen  of  the  Sixteenth 
Century. 

3  H.  C.  Hollway-Calthorp,  sopra. 


ROYIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLIA    581 

columns  of  imitation  marble;  against  each  of  the  other 
walls  stood  a  modest  side  altar,  one  of  which  was  a 
pleasing  Renaissance  work  of  sculptured  marble,  with 
a  pair  of  life-size  cherubs  at  its  front  angles;  upon 
it  was  a  seicentist  Baptism  of  the  Saviour,  somewhat 
in  Palma  Giovane's  style,  within  a  rich  frame  of  the 
same  epoch,  elaborately  carved  with  putti,  human 
faces,  festoons  of  flowers,  etc.  The  walls  and  flat  roof 
were  whitewashed,  and  the  former  hung  with  a  curi- 
ous array  of  small  modern  pictures,  mainly  lithographs. 
Two  old  canvases,  however,  flanked  the  chancel  arch, 
of  which  the  left  one  was  evidently  from  the  school 
of  Paolo  Veronese,  —  depicting  the  Madonna  in  glory 
between  Saints  Francis  and  Clara,  above  a  throng 
of  persons,  including  a  pope,  a  princess,  and  several 
cardinals;  the  figures  were  really  excellent,  being  both 
natural  and  of  considerable  grace  and  expression. 

Petrarch's  famous  fountain,  of  which  he  wrote  and 
drank,  I  found  a  little  below  the  church,  springing 
from  the  slope  under  an  archway  of  masonry,  doubt- 
less added  since  his  day.  The  sweetness  of  the  water 
justified  all  his  praises.  After  this  I  mounted  the 
main  street  to  the  upper  piazza  in  the  notch,  following 
a  couple  of  housewives  carrying  water  home  in  the 
Euganean  fashion,  —  with  a  pail  slung  at  each  end  of 
a  long  wooden  bow  across  the  shoulders.  An  odd  thing 
about  this  village  was  that  it  was  not  solidly  built, 
but  the  houses   were  sealtered   separately   about   the 

hillside,  amongsl  gardens.  From  the  ruined  fragments 
of  an  ancient  castle  at  the  top,  which  a  native  informed 
me  had  once  been  the  Venetian  citadel,  another  street 
bearing  southward  led  me  quickly  to  I  he  poet  \s  house, 

perched,  like  the  church,  on  ;i  narrow  terrace  overlook- 
ing the  southern  valley.  It  stood  at  t  he  cud  of  a  small 
garden,  now  densely  overgrown  with  trees  and  shrubs. 


682  PLAIN-TOWNS   OF   ITALY 

save  for  the  confined  walk  leading  to  the  modern  gates 
of  ornamental  ironwork.  The  two-storied  stucco  dwell- 
ing, two  rooms  deep  and  four  in  breadth,  appeared 
wonderfully  preserved,  as  if  but  one  or  two  generations 
had  passed  since  Petrarch's  occupancy;  its  present  ex- 
cellent condition  is  due  to  an  association  which  years 
ago  purchased  the  place,  to  conserve  it  as  a  lasting 
memorial.  The  entrance  is  by  a  narrow  portico  pro- 
jecting from  the  middle  of  the  facade,  consisting  of 
a  single  archway  below,  and  a  double-arched  loggia 
above,  approached  by  a  flight  of  steps  from  the  left. 
Ascending  these,  escorted  by  the  well-informed  cus- 
todian whom  my  ring  had  brought  to  the  gates,  I  found 
myself  before  three  handsome,  trefoil,  ogive  arches, 
supported  by  slender  white  stone  columns,  in  the 
middle  of  which  was  the  door,  and  at  the  sides  two 
sixteenth-century  windows  of  circular  leaded  panes.1 
Within  opened  the  wide  entrance  hall,  with  a  red  tiled 
floor,  brown  stucco  walls,  and  a  wooden  ceiling  which 
Petrarch  had  painted  with  countless  little  squares 
containing  brown  circles.  Around  the  upper  walls 
extended  a  cinquecento  frieze  of  frescoed  panels,  three 
per  side,  illustrating  the  story  of  Petrarch  and  Laura, 
as  set  forth  in  his  sonnets.  One  or  both  of  them  appear 
in  each  scene,  amidst  charming  landscapes  through 
which  winds  the  Sorga  River,  with  the  town  of  Vau- 
cluse  discerned  in  the  distance,  where  the  poet  saw 
and  loved  his  ideal;  and  under  each  tableau  are  writ- 
ten its  appropriate  verses  from  the  Canzoni  di  Laura. 
This  charming  idea  is  well  carried  out,  the  work  hav- 
ing been  skillfully  retouched  about  twenty  years  ago. 

1  Restorations,  or  reproductions,  of  the  original  trecento  windows.  In 
several  rooms,  however,  the  framework  of  Petrarch's  day  is  still  preserved; 
and  here  and  there,  especially  in  his  study,  linger  a  number  of  the  little 
round  trecento  panes,  distinguished  by  their  yellowish  opaqueness. 


AKQUA.     THE  H()i 


<>r  ri.ri:  VRCH. 


ROYIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLIA    583 

The  entrance  hall  runs  through  to  the  rear  wall, 
in  which  opens  another  doorway,  between  two  win- 
dows. Roundabout  stand  two  tables,  a  desk  and  two 
chairs  of  the  trecento,  heavily  framed  and  carved  all 
over  with  curious  scrolls,  —  recently  brought  here  to 
exemplify  the  furniture  of  Petrarch's  day.  In  a  cen- 
tral, modern,  glass  case  repose  the  visitors'  books  bear- 
ing illustrious  signatures,  amongst  which  I  saw  those  of 
Byron,  Queen  Margherita,  King  Umberto,  etc.;  also 
a  photographic  reproduction  of  a  page  of  Petrarch's 
original  manuscript  in  the  Vatican,  and  a  fine  copy 
of  the  first  printed  edition  of  his  works,  from  the  press 
of  Aldo  Manutio  at  Venice. 

The  back  room  on  the  right  was  the  poet's  bed- 
chamber, now  unfurnished;  here  there  were  similar 
rinquecento  frescoes,  illustrating  the  canzoni  on 
Laura's  death.  Adjacent  in  front  was  the  kitchen, 
with  the  handsome  chimney-piece  of  soft  creamy  stone 
(from  the  neighborhood),  under  which  the  poet's  meals 
were  cooked;  here  the  frescoes  illustrated  his  poem  on 
Africa.  The  wooden  ceiling  retained  his  painted  de- 
signs; and  over  one  doorway  stood  the  beautiful  terra- 
cotta bust  of  the  dead  Lucrezia,  which  he  so  much 
admired,  —  an  excellent  piece  of  sculpture,  with  its 
bead  thrown  bark  toward  the  right  shoulder,  and  eyes 
closed.  On  the  chimney-front  was  painted  a  reclining, 
Titianesque  Venus,  representing  the  suicide  of  Cleo- 
patra. The  left  front  chamber  was  the  poet's  dining- 
room,  adorned  with  a  similar  ehimney-pieee,  which  in 
the  Late-Renaissance  had  been  painted  with  a  copy 
of  Titian's  group  of  Venus,  Cnpid,  and  Vulcan,  —  now 
retouched  and  of  graceful  effect.  The  other  frescoes 
here  were  very  crude.    Over  the  rear  doorway,  in  a 

baroque    frame   with    a    glaSS  cover,   rested    the    eele- 

brated  mummy  of  Petrarch's  eat,  underwrit  by  an 


584  PLAIN-TOWNS  OF   ITALY 

inscription  in  Latin  which  testifies  that  she  was  the 
poet's  first  love,  not  Laura,  and  that  to  her  are  due  the 
thanks  of  humanity  for  saving  from  the  rats  his  pre- 
cious manuscripts.  The  ceiling  was  a  modern  imita- 
tion of  the  others;  and  on  the  north  wall  was  a  modern 
bronze  bust  of  Petrarch,  dated  1902. 

In  the  left  rear  were  two  undersized  rooms,  entered 
only  from  the  last;  the  larger  was  his  study,  or  library, 
illumined  still  by  the  window  of  his  day,  with  its  little 
round  leaded  panes ;  the  smaller  was  his  retreat  for 
writing  and  reading,  especially  at  night,  lighted  by  a 
similar  but  smaller  window.1  Here  it  was  that  he  was 
found  dead,  before  his  unfinished  epitome  of  the  Lives 
of  Illustrious  Men.  The  armchair  in  which  he  worked, 
and  died,  is  preserved  in  a  glass  case  in  the  study, 
together  with  the  desk  at  which  he  sat,  —  the  former 
being  exquisitely  carved  on  the  back  with  the  most 
delicate  designs.  Here  also  I  saw  his  bookcase,  whose 
two  doors  were  relieved  with  countless  tiny  square 
panels,  having  perforations  of  "X"  shape,  —  nearly  all 
destroyed  by  early  visitors.  On  the  wall  was  pointed 
out  to  me  the  remaining  decipherable  stanza  of  the 
sonnet  which  Alfieri  wrote  there  on  his  visit,  with  his 
signature  barely  visible  underneath.2 

Wonderful  indeed  it  was  to  reflect  that  in  this  very 
room,  half  a  thousand  years  ago,  with  the  aid  of  this 

1  This  was  really  a  closet,  between  the  study  and  the  hall,  entered  solely 
from  the  former;  just  wide  enough  to  contain  his  desk  and  armchair,  before 
the  window. 

2  These  famous  lines  are  as  admirable  for  their  tenderness  of  sentiment 
as  for  their  melody;  they  began,  — 

O  Cameretta,  che  gia  in  te  chiudesti 
Quel  Grande  alia  cui  fama  e,  angusto  il  mondo  — 

Alfieri's  memorandum  at  this  time  also  shows  his  feelings:  "I  visited, 
once  more,  the  tomb  of  our  master  in  love,  the  divine  Petrarch;  and  then, 
as  at  Ravenna,  consecrated  a  day  to  meditation  and  verse." 


ROVIGO,  ARQUA,  AND  BATTAGLIA    585 

same  furniture,  the  thoughts  were  penned  which  led 
the  way  for  mankind  from  the  darkness  of  barbarism 
to  the  light  of  culture.  "Even  after  death  [that  of 
Laura]  had  placed  the  last  seal  on  his  misery,"  said 
Macaulay,  "we  see  him  devoting  to  the  cause  of  the 
human  mind  all  the  strength  and  energy  which  love 
and  sorrow  had  spared.  He  lived  the  apostle  of  liter- 
ature; —  he  fell  its  martyr:  —  he  was  found  dead  with 
his  head  reclined  on  a  book."  * 

There  were  two  more  rooms  to  be  seen,  added  on  to 
the  west  end  after  Petrarch's  time,  and  filled  now 
with  portraits,  busts,  relics  of  the  Delia  Carrara,  early 
editions  of  Petrarch's  works,  Renaissance  furniture, 
etc.,  all  more  or  less  connected  in  interest  with  his 
life  and  fame.  Finally,  I  stepped  from  the  rear  door 
upon  the  balcony  above  the  valley,  guarded  still  by  its 
original  curved  iron  railing,  upon  which  the  poet  loved 
to  lean  and  gaze  at  his  view:  there  directly  below 
spread  the  little  field  which  was  laden  with  his  cher- 
ished vines  and  olive  trees,  —  now  a  vineyard  only;  be- 
yond stretched  "the  glowing  gardens  in  the  dale  im- 
mediately beneath,  [and]  the  wide  plain,  above  whose 
low  woods  of  mulberry  and  willow,  thickened  into  a 
dark  mass  l»y  festoons  of  vines,  tall  single  cypresses 
and  the  spires  of  towns  are  seen  in  the  distance, 
stretching  to  t he  mouths  of  the  Po  and  the  shores  of 
the  Adriatic"  2 

Glorious  indeed  was  this  view  which  lured  the  poet 
here  to  dwell,  —  all  unchanged  from  the  days  when  his 
eyes  rested  upon  it  :  the  girdling  conical  peaks  soaring 
in  majesty  to  the  right,  the  pastoral  vale  below,  the 
vast    mountain-side    opposite    climbing    from    fertile 

meadows  to  t  he  bare  summit ,  the  red-tiled  village  clam- 
bering up  the  hither  slope  to  the  left,  and  the  immense, 
1  Macaulay,  Essay  on  Petrarch.        2  Lord  Brou^hton,  sopm. 


586  PLAIN-TOWNS   OF  ITALY 

green,  haze-shrouded  plain  extending  indefinitely  be- 
yond the  valley's  end,  with  its  eternal  sense  of  mystery 
and  menace  of  the  sea.  When  I  had  bidden  good-by  to 
the  sanctuary,  regained  my  vettura,  and  started  from 
the  village  down  the  far  descent,  the  beauty  of  that 
sublime  panorama  came  upon  me  with  redoubled  feel- 
ing; and  at  the  first  knoll  I  stopped,  to  gaze  upon  it 
once  more.  My  journeying  was  over;  behind  me  lay 
all  that  wonderful  hinterland  which  Venice  conquered 
with  the  sword,  and  clothed  in  the  loveliness  of  the 
Renaissance;  and  ahead  of  me,  just  below  that  dim 
horizon  which  seemed  to  bear  the  murmur  of  the 
waves,  soared  the  golden  domes  and  spires  of  the 
Suzeraine  herself,  —  the  Immortal  Republic,  beckon- 
ing me  back  to  her  glorious  rest.  In  this  final  look, 
the  great  plain  seemed  to  grow  more  lustrous,  —  still 
more  like  an  emerald  velvet  strown  with  the  spark- 
ling diamonds  of  its  innumerable  hamlets,  as  if  to  dis- 
play to  me  for  the  last  time  its  full  and  matchless 
charm.  And  as  I  gazed  farewell,  the  melody  of  the 
poet  was  ringing  in  my  ears,  like  the  silver  chimes  of 
monastery  bells  across  a  shadow-stealing  vale:  — 

Farewell,  land  of  love,  Italy, 

Sister-land  of  Paradise: 
With  mine  own  feet  I  have  trodden  thee. 

Have  seen  with  mine  own  eyes; 
I  remember,  thou  forgettest  me,  — 

I  remember  thee.1 

1  C.  G.  Rossetti. 


THE   END 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Abano,  town  of,  559. 
Accoramboni,  Yittoria,  48,  49. 
Adige  river,  322-325,  347-349,  395, 

396. 
Adria,  town  of,  558. 
Agilulf,  559. 
Agriculture  of  the  plain,  13,  15,  97, 

98, 260,  501,  502,  572-576. 
Alarie,  224,  272,  326,  459. 
Alberic  da  Romano,  139,  178. 
Alboin,  224,  273,  324,  329. 
Aleardi,  344. 
Aleotti,  G.  B.,  128. 
Altichieri  da  Zevio,  22,  69,  70,  71,  78, 

79,  344,  358,  367,  391. 
Amalteo,  Pomponio,  191,  248,  256, 

277,  284,  291,  292,  303,  313. 
Amusements   of   townspeople,  142, 

143,145,182-184,480,481. 
Aquileia,  271,  272,  275;  Patriarchs 

of,  260,  274,  275,  278,  299,  308, 

312. 
Antenor,  16,  28,  60,  61,  85. 
Antharis.  330,  849. 
Antonello  da,  Messina,  83. 
Annl,.,  347. 

Arnold  of  Brescia,  W0,  168. 
Arqua,     buildings    of,    577,    578; 

church,  ">77,  680,  681;  drives  to, 

628,     674,     -r>7<;;     fountain,     681; 

Petrarch,  ■',()'.)  672,  tomb  of,  677 

.riS0,  bouse  of,  581   585-  situation, 

628,  660,  ■".:-'.  "<76. 
laolo,  I"-:'-.  154. 
Attila,  16,  224,  272,  320,  452,  461, 

Avar-,  the.  27:5.  271. 

bigtione,  tin-,  25.  20,30,  60,  80, 
L00,  1 1",  627. 
Badile,  Antonio,  846,  891,  402,  556. 


Barbarelli,  Giorgio  (see  Giorgione). 

Bardi,  Giovanni  Minelli  de',  145. 

Baruzzi,  489. 

Basaiti,  251,  555. 

Bassano:  albergo,  142;  art  of,  140; 
Bardi,  Minelli  de',  145;  Bellini, 
Giovanni,  152;  bicycle  meet,  142, 
143,  145;  Bonifazio,  152;  Brenta, 
the,  138,  139, 145,  146;  bridge,  the 
old  wooden,  145,  146;  Buonamici, 
house  of,  149;  Ca'  Rezzonico,  152; 
camposanto,  147;  Canova,  150, 
153;  cinematograph,  142,  143;  Ua 
Ponte,  family  of,  140;  Da  Ponte, 
Francesco,  140,  150,  151;  Da 
Ponte,  Francesco,  Jr.,  140,  159; 
Da  Ponte,  Girolamo,  140, 144;  Da 
Ponte,  house  of  the  family,  147; 
Da  Ponte,  Jacopo,  140,  145,  151; 
Da  Ponte,  Leandro,  140,  148,  151, 
268;  Duomo,  148;  excursions 
from,  152,  153, 154;  Ezzelino,  139, 
141;  castle  of,  147,  148;  S.  Giov- 
anni Battista,  church  of,  144,  145; 
Guariento,  152;  Guarinai,  G.,  148; 
history,  139,  140;  hotel,  142;  jour- 
ney to,  137,  138;  Madonna  delle 
Grazie,  church  of,  153;  Minelli  de' 
Bardi,  145;  Museo  Civico,  150; 
Palazzo  Pretorio,  149;  piazzas, 
central,  l  i:i.  1 15,  1 i!>:  Pitati,  Bon- 
ifazio, 152;  Pordenone,  150;  Pos- 
sagno,     150;     Koherti,     Kolterto, 

L61;  situation,  139;  street  paint- 
ing, 1 1!»;  SS.  Trinita,  153;  view 
from   castle,    147;    Villa    Parolini, 

163;  western  quarter,   115,   146, 

147. 

Bassano  family,  l  M). 

Bassano,  Francesco,  140,  150,  151, 

212. 


500 


INDEX 


Bassano,  Francesco,  Jr.,  140, 159. 

Bassano,  Girolamo,  140,  144. 

Bassano,  Jacopo,  36,  96,  130,  131, 
140,  145,  151,  153. 

Bassano,  Leandro,  126,  140,  148, 
151,  159,  213,  268. 

Baths  of  Recoaro,  137. 

Battaglia:  Albergo  Italia,  562;  as- 
pect of,  561,  562;  baths,  history  of, 
559;  canal,  528,  531,  560,  561,  562; 
Castle  of  Cattajo,  565-569;  Es- 
tensi,  the,  565;  Grand  Hotel  des 
Thermes,  560,  561;  Obizzi,  the, 
565,  568;  parish  church,  562;  situ- 
ation of,  559;  springs  of,  559,  564; 
Stabilmento  dei  Bagni,  559,  564; 
vapor  grottoes,  565;  Villa  S. 
Elena,  559,  562;  Veronese,  Paolo, 
568;  Zelotti,  568. 

Bayard,  Chevalier,  426. 

Bellano,  Bart.,  47, 75, 77,  95,  96. 

Belli,  Marco,  555. 

Bellini,  Gentile,  83,  554. 

Bellini,  Giovanni,  83,  107,  126,  127, 
130,  152,  198,  209,  210,  410,  490, 
554,  557. 

Bellunello,  Andrea,  276,  284. 

Belluno,  214,  215. 

Bembo,  Cardinal,  10,  154;  tomb  of, 
67. 

Benaglio,  Francesco,  345,  367,  390, 
402. 

Benaglio,  Girolamo,  345. 

Berengarius,  331. 

Bergamo,  4. 

Berici,  Monti,  100,  105,  106,  120, 
133-136,  346. 

Bevilacqua,  200,  504. 

Bissolo,  192. 

Boccaccino,  Boccaccio,  83. 

Bonifacio,  S.,  village  of,  347. 

Bonifazio,  152,  410,  555. 

Bonsignori,    Francesco,    345,    346, 

390,  401,  402. 
Bordone,  Paris,  180,  190,  191,  192, 

213. 
Bosco  del  Consiglio,  258. 


Boselli,  Antonio,  67. 

Bozcn,  154,  323. 

Brandolin  Castle,  258. 

Bregni,  brothers,  191. 

Brenta  Canal,  25. 

Brenta  River,  6,  8-10, 12, 138, 139, 
145,  146. 

Brescia:  S.  Afra, church  of,  469-471 ; 
S.  Agostino,  church  of,  442;  Alaric, 
452;  S.  Alessandro,  church  of,  472; 
amusements,  480,  481 ;  Ansilperga, 
454,  459,  463;  Arnold  of  Brescia, 
420,  468;  art  of,  429-431;  Attila, 
452,    461;    Barbieri     (Guercino), 
491;      Baruzzi,      489;      Bayard, 
Chevalier,  426;  Bellini,  Giovanni, 
490;  Broletto,  439-443;  cafes  and 
bars,  480;  Camposanto,  495;  Car- 
magnola,  424,  425;  Carrara,  della, 
the,  421,  424;  castle  and  castle 
hill,  433,  434,  491-494;  Catullus, 
419;  character  of  the  people,  431; 
Charlemagne,      464;      Civerchio, 
Vincenzo,  429,  472,  478,  491;  S. 
Clemente,   church   of,   466,   467; 
clock  tower,  438;  Cornaro,  Queen 
Caterina,  427;  Corso  Zanardelli, 
433,    434,    435,    481;   S.    Cristo, 
church   of,   487;   cross   of   Galla 
Placidia,  457,  458,  459;  customs  of 
the  people,  480,  481;  Desiderata, 
463,   464;   Desiderius,    420,   454, 
459,   463;   Duomo   Nuovo,   440, 
443-445;    Duomo    Vecchio,    440, 
445;   Ezzelino,   420,   421;   Ferra- 
mola,  429,  430,  456;  Ferrari,  489; 
Foppa,  Vincenzo,  429,  477,  484, 
489;    Foppa   the   Younger,    456; 
fortress,  491,  492;  Forum,  Roman, 
449-452;  S.  Francesco,  church  of, 
485,  486;  Francia,  477,  490;  Fred- 
erick  Barbarossa,   420;   Fromen- 
tone,   437;  Galleria  Martinengo, 
469,    489-491;    Galla     Placidia, 
457-462;     Gambara,     Lattanzio, 
431;  Garibaldi,  429,  494;  Gaston 
de  Foix,  426;  S.  Giovanni  Evan- 


INDEX 


591 


gelista,  church  of,  477-479;  S. 
Guilia,  church  of,  454-458,  462; 
Gregoletti,  445;  Haynau,  General, 
428,  429;  history,  419-429,  450, 
452,  453;  hotel,  433;  Lotto,  Lor- 
enzo, 490;  Luini,  Bernardino,  465; 
Madonna  dei  Miracoli,  church  of, 
485;  Mantegna,  490;  manufactur- 
ing, 487,  488;  Marco  Palmesano 
da  Forli,  490;  S.  Maria  Calchera, 
church  of,  467;  S.  Maria  del  Car- 
mine, church  of,  479;  S.  Maria  del 
Solari,  church  of,  454,  464,  465;  S. 
Maria  delle  Grazie,  church  of, 
475-477;  Martinengo,  Count,  427, 
428,  469,  tomb  of,  456,  457;  Mer- 
cato  dei  Grani,  468;  Mercato 
Nuovo,  468;  II  Moretto  (Alessan- 
dro  Bonvicini;,  430,  447,  448,  466, 
467,  468,  469,  477,  478,  484,  485, 
486,  489,  490;  Moretto,  statue  of, 
409;  Moroni,  G.  B..  431,  490; 
Museo  Civico  Eta  Romana,  450, 
451;  Museo  del  Risorgimento, 
492-494;  Museo  Medioevale,  449, 
454^458,  462;  SS.  Nazzaro  e  Celso, 
church  of,  483-485;  Palazzo 
Calzavellio,  474;  Palazzo  Fe,  485; 
Palazzo  Maspcri,  474;  Palazzo 
Munieipale,  436-439;  Palazzo  To- 
sio,  473;  Palladio,  437;  Palma 
Vi-ic-liio,  447,  448;  Pampaloni, 
489;  patron  saintfl,  145;  1'iazza, 
Calisto,  UiS;  1'iazza  Comune,  434, 
430;  Piazza  dd  Duomo,  184,  489; 
1'iazza  dd  Museo,  149;  PSaana 
ddla  Potta,  M9;  1'iazza  Moretto, 

469;    1'iazza    Nmiva,    435;    1'iazza 

Tit..  Speri,  148,  186;  8.  Retro, 
chord]  of,  188,  189;  plan  of,  184; 
Porta  Milano,  it:..  Porta  Stad- 
one,   wi.   v>~>;  Prato,  Pranceaco 

da,  IK'i;  Queriniaoa  Library,  149; 

Kapha.  1,  UK);  EUeorgimento,  hh, 
\A  Human  Brescia,  119,  184, 
149  158;   Bomaa   painting,    uh; 

Roman   th.atrr,   452;   Komanino, 


Girolamo,  430,  447,  448,  463,  467, 
468,  478,  479,  486,  490;  S.  Salva- 
tore,  church  of,  454,  455,  463,  493; 
Sansovino,  437,  489;  Savoldo, 
Geronimo,  430,  431,  491;  Scali- 
gers,  the,  421;  Sforza,  Francesco, 
424,  425;  shops,  the,  481;  situa- 
tion, 419;  socialism  of  the  people, 
481,  482;  Speri,  Tito,  428,  429, 
442,  492,  494,  tomb  of,  442;  Tem- 
ple of  Hercules,  434,  449;  Ten 
Days  of,  429;  Ten  Days  monu- 
ment, 438;  Thorvaldsen,  489; 
Tintoretto,  470;  Titian,  471,  484; 
Torre  della  Pallata,  475;  tram- 
ways, 483;  Venice,  rule  of,  424- 
427;  Veronese,  Paolo,  470;  Ves- 
pasian, 449,  450;  Via  delle  Spa- 
derie,  435,  436;  Via  Gambara,  487; 
Victory,  statue  of,  450,  451;  Vis- 
conti,  Gian  Galeazzo,  437;  Vis- 
conti,  the,  421,  422,  424,  425; 
Viti,  Timoteo,  490;  wine-presses  of 
the  streets,  479,  480;  Zanardelli 
monument,  495,  496;  Zoppo, 
Paolo,  429,  456,  489. 

Brusasorci,  345,  346,  371,  372,  378, 
381,  391,  399,  402,  405. 

Buonconsiglio,  Giovanni,  106,  132, 
133,510,511,512,513,514. 

Cafe-life,  182-184,  480. 
Calderari,  107,  131. 
Calisto  (St.  Calixtus),  308,  309,  310. 
Cambrai,  League  of,  4,  20,  29,  104, 

105,  342,  427. 
Campione,  I  Fgo  da,  446. 
<  lampagna,  Girolamo,  72,  212,301. 
( 'umpagnola,  Darin,  94. 
Campagnolu,  iJnmcnico,  33,  30,  SO, 

91,  92,  95,  96,  129. 
( lampagaola,  ( iiulio,  95. 
( lampo  Pormio,  27K. 
Canova,  150,  158. 
Capdletti  (Capulets),  the,  332,  337. 

897. 
Carea,  town  of,  504, 


592 


INDEX 


Cariani,  Giovanni,  551,  552. 

Carmagnola,  424,  ±25. 

Carnio,  Antonio,  277. 

C«roto,  P.,  345,  374,  877,  390,  399, 
401,  404,  409. 

Carpaccio,  V.,  248,  554. 

Carpi,  Girolamo,  551. 

Carrara,  della,  the,  19,  103,  139,  164, 
178,  22(5,  201,341,  421, 500. 

Carrara,  della,  Francesco,  19,  179, 
341,424,570,572,580. 

Carrara,  della,  Francesco  Novello, 
19,  30. 

Carrara,  della,  Jacopo  1, 19, 103. 

Carrara,  della,  Jacopo  II,  21,  33,  35, 
47. 

Carrara,  della,  Ubertino,  33,  47. 

Casarsa,  280. 

Castelfranco:albergo,  162, 163, 168- 
170;  castle,  160,  161,  163,  171; 
church,  171-174;  conclave  of,  164; 
Costanza  house,  175;  Costanza, 
Matteo,  165,  166,  172,  174;  Cos- 
tanza, Tuzio,  161,  165,  172;  fairs 
of,  175;  festa,  170;  fortress,  161, 
164,  171;  eastern  gate  of,  175; 
Giorgione,  life  and  work,  165-167, 
statue  of,  165,  pala  of,  173,  174, 
frescoes  of,  175, 176,  house  of,  175; 
history,  161,  164,  165;  Municipio, 
171;  lottery-drawing,  163;  Palma 
Giovane,  173;  piazza,  160,  175; 
Pordenone,  176;  promenade  along 
the  fosse,  170;  unpleasant  experi- 
ence, 168-170;  Veronese,  Paolo, 
172,  173;  walls  and  battlements, 
160.  164,  165. 

Cattajo,  Castle,  565-569. 

Catullus,  344,  419,  432. 

Cavallotti,  Felice,  bust  of,  522. 

Cavazzola,  345,  366,  390,  402,  405, 
406,  409,  410. 

Ceneda  (see  Serravalle):  Amalteo, 
256;  aspect,  252;  counts  of,  244, 
247,  248;  Duomo,  252,  253; 
Fiori,  Jacobello  del,  251,  253; 
Marchese  Costantini,  gardens  of, 


252,  256,  257;  Municipio,  252; 
Palazzo  Municipale,  255,  256; 
Palma  Giovane,  253;  Tiepolo, 
253;  Titian,  253-255;  Valentina, 
Jacopo,  253;  Vescovodo,  252. 

Charlemagne,  274,  330,  331,  464, 
518,  529. 

Chaucer,  30. 

Chioggia,    558. 

Cima  da  Conegliano,  107,  130,  226, 
227,  230,  231,  410,  528,  519,  550, 
554. 

Cittadella:  Bassano,  Francesco,  159; 
Bassano,  Leandro,  159;  church, 
158,  159;  fosse,  159;  history,  155, 
156;  main  streets,  157;  Municipio, 
158;  piazza,  158;  Porta  Bassano, 
157,  158;  Porta  Padovana,  156, 
157;  Porta  Trevisana,  158;  Pre- 
fettura,  158;  situation,  155;  Vene- 
tian Lion,  158;  walls,  city,  141, 
155,  156,  157. 

Civerchio,  Vincenzo,  429,  430,  472, 
478,  491. 

Cividale :  Amal  teo,  313;  Baptistery  of 
Calixtus,  310;  Calisto  (Calixtus), 
308,  309;  Chapel  of  St.  Peltrudis, 
307,  313-318;  Convent  of  the 
Ursulines,  313-318;  Duomo,  309; 
310-313;  history,  273-275,  307, 
308;  S.  Maria  de'  Battuti,  318, 
319;  S.  Maria  in  Valle,  319;  S. 
Martino,  church  of,  318,  319; 
S.  Martino,  quarter  of,  314;  Meri, 
Pietro,  311;  Museo  Civico,  319- 
321;  Palazzo  Municipale,  309; 
Palma  Giovane,  311,  312,  313; 
Palma  Vecchio,  311;  Patriarchs, 
274, 275,  308, 312;  Pellegrino,  319; 
Pontedel  Diavolo,  318;  Seccante, 
Sebastiano,  311;  situation,  308, 
314;  Tiepolo,  G.  B.,  313. 

Codroipo,  280. 

Colalto,  castle  and  counts  of,  236- 
243. 

Conegliano:  aspect,  225;  Casa  Borgo 
della  Madonna,  231;  castle,  225, 


INDEX 


593 


226,  232,  tower  of,  232,  233,  view 
from,  233;  Cima,  Gian  Battista, 
life  and  work,  226,  227,  pala  of, 
230,    231;    Dario,    232;    Duomo, 

227,  228,  230;  history,  226;  opera- 
house,  229;  Palazzo  Municipale, 
229;  Piazza  Venti  Settembre,  229; 
situation,  226. 

Constantine,  272,  326. 

Cormor  river,  277. 

Cornaro,  Queen  Caterina,  154,  427. 

Costanzi,   the,   161,   165,   166,   172, 

174,  175. 
Crivelli,  Carlo,  410. 
Customs  of  citizens,  375,  480-482. 
Custozza,  343,  416. 

Dandolo,  Enrico,  4. 

Daniele,  S.,  town  of,  306. 

Dante,  21,  22,  46,  60,  179,  201,  336, 

337,  358,  372,  411,  414. 
Da    Ponte,    Francesco,    140,    150, 

151,  212. 
Da  Ponte,  Francesco,  Jr.,  140,  159. 
Da  Ponte,  Girolamo,  140,  144. 
Da  Ponte,  Jacopo,  36,  96,  130,  131, 

140,  145,  151,  153. 
Da  Ponte,  Leandro,  126,  140,  148, 

151,  159,  213,  268. 
Dario,  180,  232,  269. 
D'Avanzo,  Jacopo,  22,  33,  69,  70, 

78,  844,  887. 
D'Aseho,  Massimo,  106. 
Delia  Srala  (.ire  Scala). 

Desenaano,  188. 

Desiderius,  880,  120,  454,  459,  468. 

Domenichino,  I2!t,  550. 

Donat.ll.,,  24,  55,  04,  Mi.  08,  74,  75, 

Dorando,  General,  loo. 
1  >"-~\,  I  )..--<i,  550. 
DUrer.  Albrecht,  550. 

Elena        I     rtle,  559,  500,  r,r,:\,  504. 

I  albergo,  519;  Archangel  Ga- 
briel,  church  <>f,  527;  Bacchigiione 
Biver,  :>t~,  castle,  580;  (  athedral 


of  S.  Tecla,  523,  524;  Cima  da 
Conegliano,  528;  clock  and  bell 
tower,  526,  527;  Estensi,  history 
of  the,  498-500;  Frussine  River, 
527;  history,  498-501 ;  S.  Maria 
delle  Consolazioni,  church  of,  527, 
528;  S.  Martino,  church  of,  526; 
moat,  527;  mosaics,  Roman,  525; 
Museum,  525;  Palazzo  Munici- 
pale, 520;  Piazza  Maggiore,  518, 
519;  Pelasgian  relics,  525;  Porta 
Vecehia,  527;  S.  Rocco,  church  of, 
527;  Roman  relics,  525;  situa- 
tion, 518;  Tiepolo,  G.  B.,  524;  Via 
Monache,  527;  Via  Principe  Um- 
berto,  518;  Via  Vittorio  Emanu- 
ele,  526;  Villa  Benvenuti,  523. 

Estensi,  arms  of,  520. 

Estensi,  castle  of  (see  Este). 

Estensi,  the,  498-500,  518,  519,  529, 
530,  533,  541,  542,  565. 

Euganean  Hills,  25,  100,  497,  504, 
518,  528,  529,  530,  559,  569. 

Euscbio  di  S.  Giorgio,  410. 

Ezzelino  da  Romano,  17-19,  52,  59, 
63,  88,  89,  101,  102,  139,  141,  178, 
226,  333,  387,  420,  421,  499,  529, 
530. 

Falconetto,  32,  69,  92,  96,  346,  369, 

372,  402. 
Farinato,    P.,  346,   371,  399,   401, 

402. 
Farming  systems  of  plain,  573-576. 

See  Agriculture;  Peasant-life. 
Fasolo,  181. 

Ferramola,  429.  430,  453. 
Ferrara,  Bono  da,  50,  52. 
Ferrari,  Gaudenzio,  187,  isd. 
Piore,  Jacobello  del,  851,  858. 
I'l Is  of  Venetia,  221,  259,  280, 

A\H,  349. 

Fogasaaro,  A.,  107. 

Fogolino,  185,  2<;7. 

Poppa,  tin-  younger,  i.">^. 

Poppa,  Vincenso,  189,  177,  184,  189. 

Forli,  Ansuino  cl^,  50,  52. 


594 


INDEX 


Forum    Julii,    271,   273,   274.     See 

Cividale. 
Fra  Giocondo  of  Verona,  193,  360. 
Fra  Giovanni  da  Verona,  400. 
Fra  Giovanni  of  Vicensa,  101,  102, 

3:53. 
Fra  Girolamo  da  Brescia,  89. 
Francia,  83,  410,  477,  478,  490. 
Frederick  I,  Barbarossa,  101,  332, 

420. 
Frederick  II,  Emperor,  17,  88,  89, 

101,  332,  333,  420. 
Freedom    of    person,    speech,    and 

press,  482. 
Friuli,  art  of,  276,  277;  description 

of,  258-260;  history  of,  260,  261, 

271-276. 
Frizimelaga,  Francesco,  251. 
Fromentone,  Tommaso,  107,  437. 
Frussine  river,  527. 
Fusina,  6,  7. 

Galileo,  30,  54. 

Gal  la  Placidia,  life  and  cross  of,  457- 

462. 
Gambara,  Lattanzio,  431. 
Garda,  Lake,  431-433. 
Garofalo,  83,  404,  551. 
Gaston  de  Foix,  426. 
Gattamelata,  24,  425;  statue  of,  55, 

56,  64,  65. 
Gemona,  306. 

Giacomelli,  Villa,  see  Maser. 
Gianpetrino,  556. 

Giocondo,  Fra,  da  Verona,  193,  360. 
Giolfino,  Niccolo,  346,  368,  370,  382, 

390,  391,  405,  409. 
Giolfino,  Paolo,  346. 
Giordano,  Luca,  90. 
GiorKione,  82,   165-167,  172,   173- 

175,186,187,555. 
Giotto,  21,  22,  37-46,  56,  336,  358. 
Giovanni,  Fra,  da  Verona,  406. 
Giovanni,  Fra,  da  Vicenza,  101,  102, 

333. 
Giovanni  da  Udine,  291,  298,  299, 

300,  300. 


Girolamo  da  Santa  Croce,  94,  95. 
Girolamo  da  Treviso,  180,  191. 
Girolamo  da  Udine,  277,  284,  295, 

296. 
Girolamo  dai  Libri,  see  Libri. 
Girolamo  del  Toso,  130. 
Gisulf,  273,  307. 
Giuseppini,  F.,  296. 
Goldsmith,  Oliver,  21. 
Gonzaga,  Vespasiano,  128. 
Grado,  274,  275,  307. 
Grassi,  291. 

Guariento,  33,  35,  47,  152. 
Guercino,  405,  406,  491. 

Haynau,  General,  428,  429. 
Holbein,  Jan,  556. 
Honoria,  458,  461,  462. 
Honorius,  459,  460,  461. 

Illasi,  347,  415. 

Jones,  Inigo,  108. 

Justinian,  Emperor,  273,  329. 

Landlords  of  Venetia,  574,  575. 
Legnago,  501,  504. 
Leopardi,  Alessandro,  89. 
Leyden,  Luca  von,  556,  558. 
Liberale,   345,  346,   356,   368,   370, 

373,  404,  409. 
Libri,  Girolamo  dai,  345,  355,  366, 

367,  376,  377,  400,  402,  404,  407, 

409. 
Livenza  river,  259. 
Livy,  16,  56,  57,  559. 
Lombard  League,  101,  102,  332,  420. 
Lombardi,  the,  189,  190,  191,  209. 
Lombardo,  Antonio,  72. 
Lombardo,  Pietro,  189,  191,  209. 
Lombardo,  Tullio,  72,  209. 
Lombardy,  Plain  of,  see  Plain. 
Lotto,  Lorenzo,  180,  213,  490. 
Luini,  Bernardino,  465. 

Mabuse,  Jan,  556. 
Macer,  iEmilius,  344. 


INDEX 


595 


Maffei,  Scipione,  344. 

Maggi,  Bishop  Berardo,  tomb  of, 
446. 

Malamocco,  1. 

Mansueti,  410. 

Mantcgna,  Andrea,  23,  50,  51,  52, 
66,  106,  367,  371,  388,  410,  490, 
556. 

Manufacturing,  modern,  488. 

Marco  Palmesano  da  Forli,  490. 

Marconi,  Rocco,  180. 

Marostica,  town  of,  137,  153,  154. 

Martinengo,   Count,  427,  428,  469. 

Martini,  Giovanni,  276,  284,  291. 

Martini  of  Verona,  344,  367. 

S.  Martino,  416. 

Maser,  village  of,  214;  frescoes  by  P. 
Veronese,  214,  21!);  trip  to,  from 
Treviso,  214;  Villa  Giacomelli, 
214,  216-223,  erected  by  Palladio, 
211,  216,  stucco  work  by  A.  Vit- 
toria,  214,  216. 

Men,  Pietro,  311. 

Michiel,  Domenico,  3,  4. 

Minelli,  Giovanni,  69,  145. 

Mocetto,  130,  407. 

Monselice:  Balbi-Valier,  villa  and 
family,  537,  538;  Battaglia  canal, 
531;  castle,  history  and  aspect, 
528,  529,  5:50;  castle  hill,  531,  684, 
587,588;  cemetery,  536;  city  clock- 
tower.  532,  583;  Duodo,  Conti, 
537,  538;  Duomo,  535;  Estensi, 
the,  529,  580,  583;  Frussine,  527, 
528;    Garibaldi     Memorial.    532; 

'  reraldi,   <  !ontessa  and    Palazzo, 
I,  534;  S.  Giustina,  535;  Grotta 
di  S.  Frano  ! .  history,  529, 

530;  mam  street,  581;  martyrs, 
bodies  of,  588;  Monte  de  Pleta, 
!  palaces,  noble,  588;  Palazzo 
del  Conti  N.itii,  585;  Palazzo 
M  urcello,  533;  Palazzo  Klunid- 
pale,  582;  Piazaa  V  it  t ■  .ri. •  l.m.ui- 
ueli  ituatkm,  628, 

Villa    Valier,    587,    588;    trails, 

531. 


Montagna,  Bart. ,  96,  106,  107,116, 
126,  130,  135,  402. 

Montagnana:  albergo,  505;  aspect 
of  the  country,  497,  498,  502,  503; 
Buonconsiglio,  510,  511,  512,  513, 
514;  castello,  514;  Cavallerizza, 
515;  district  of  the  Polesine,  497; 
Duomo,  506,  509-512;  S.  Fran- 
cesco, church  of,  516;  history  of 
the  Polesine,  497-501 ;  main  street, 
514;  Municipio,  513;  Piazza 
Grande,  506-508,  513,  516;  Porta 
Legnago,  517;  Porta  S.  Zeno,  514; 
Sammicheli,  513,  514;  tomb  of 
Admiral  Pisani,  512;  Villa  Pisani, 
516;  Vittorio  Emanuele  II,  monu- 
ment to,  506;  walls  of,  500,  501. 

Montagues,  the,  see  Montecchi. 

Monte  Berici,  100,  105,  106,  120, 
133,  134,  135,  136,  346. 

Monte  Cisone,  258. 

Montebello,  347. 

Montecchi,  the,  332,  346;  castles  of, 
137,  346. 

Montecchio,  village  of,  137,  346. 

Montorio,  411. 

Moretto,  377, 381,  402,  410,  430,  447. 
448,  466,  467,  468,  469,  477,  478, 
484,  485,  486,  489,  490. 

Blorone,  Andrea,  89. 

Moronc,  Domenico,  411. 

Mnrone,  Francesco,  345,  390,  405, 
409,  410. 

Moroni,  <•.  B.,  431,  490. 

Music,  regimental,  183. 

Napoleon  the  Great,  14, 15,  L05,  189, 

lT'.t.  27H,  *«)*.  848,  847,  854,  WS. 

Nars.s,  329.  52!). 

Naviglio  Adigetto,   540,   648,   547, 

.".is. 

Newspapers  of  Venetia,  is  i . 
Nugent,  General,  i".~». 

Octroi  duties,  2mo. 
Odoacer,  273,  826,  327,  32H. 
()li\i,  Giuseppe,  i!)2. 


.)!h; 


INDEX 


Orderliness  of  Venetia,  482. 
Orsoolo,  Pietro,  3. 

Padovanino,    Alessandro    Varotari, 

86,  93,  !>.">.  268. 

Padovano,  Giusto,  22,  23,  57-59. 

Padua:  Accoramboni,  Vittoria,  48, 
19;  Altichieri, 22,  69-72, 78, 79;  An- 
terior, 10,  28,  60,  85;  Antonello  da 
Messina,  83;  S.  Antonio,  62-64, 

87,  88;  S.  Antonio,  church  of,  19, 
22,  24,  47,  64-77;  Area  Vallaresso, 
35;  Archbishop's  Palace,  34,  35; 
Arena,  26,  37;  Ariosto,  18;  art  of, 
22-24;    Attila,    16;    Bacchiglione 
river,  25,  26,  60,  80;  Baptistery, 
19,  35,  36,  57-59;  Barriera  Maz- 
zini,  26,  29;  Bassano,  Jacopo,  96; 
Bellano,  47,  75,  95,  96;   Bellini, 
Gentile,  83;  Bellini,  Giovanni,  83; 
Bellini,   Jacopo,   23;   Boccaccino, 
Boccaccio,  83;  Boselli,  Antonio,  67; 
Brenta  Canal,  25;  Caffe  Pedroc- 
chi,   37,   82;   Campagna,   G.,  72; 
Campagnola,   Dom.,   33,   36,   80, 
91,  92,  95,  96;  Cappella  S.  Giorgio, 
78;  Carmine,  church   of,  29,   93; 
Carmine,  Scuola  del,  93-95;  Car- 
rara,    della,    Francesco,    19,    20; 
Carrara,  della,  Francesco  Novello, 
19,  20,  30;  Carrara,  della,  Jacopo 
I,   19;  Carrara,  della,  Jacopo  II 
(Minore),    21,    33,    47;    Carrara, 
della,  Ubertino,  33,  47;  Carrara, 
delle  (Jacopo  Minore  and  Uber- 
tino), tombs  of,  47;  castle  of  Ezze- 
lino,  18,  59;  Chaucer,  30;  collec- 
tions, various,  of  city,  see  Museo 
Civico;  Dante,  16,  17,  18,  21,  22 
60;  D'Avanzo,  Jacopo,  22,  33,  69 
70,78,  79;  Delesmanini  Palace,  38 
Donatello,  24,  55,  56,  64,  66,  74 
75,  76;  Dondi,  Giacomo,  clock,  32 
Duomo,    35,    57-59;     Eremetani 
church  of  the,  19,  24,  46,  49-52 
Kzzelino,  17,  18,  19,  52,  59,  63,  88 
89;    Ezzelino's    prisons,    18,    29 


Falconetto,  32,  69,  92,  96;  Fer- 
rara,  Bona  da,  50,  52;  Forli,  An- 
Buino  da,  50,  52;  Fra  Giovanni, 
47,  56;  Fra  Girolamo  of  Brescia, 
89;    S.    Francesca,    96;    Francia, 
83;  Frederick  II,  17,  88,  89;  Gali- 
leo,   30,    54;    gallery   of   art,    see 
Museo  Civico;  Garofalo,  83;  Gatta 
di    S.    Andrea,  52;    Gattamelata, 
statue,  24,  55,  64;  Giordano,  Luca, 
90;  Giorgione,  82;  Giotto,  21,  22, 
38-46,   56;   Girolamo  del  Santo, 
96;   S.   Giustina,   88,   90,   91;   S. 
Giustina,  church  of,  88,  89;  Gua- 
riento,  33,  47;  history,  16-24,  499, 
500,    529,    530;    hotel,    27,    28; 
League  of  Cambrai,  20;  Leopardi, 
A.,  89;  Livy,  16,  56;  Loggia  del 
Consiglio,  34;  Loggia  Municipale, 
87;  Lombardo,  Antonio,  72;  Lom- 
bardo,  Tullio,  72;  Madonna  dell' 
Arena,  church  of,  22,  37-46;  main 
streets,  28,  29;  Mantegna,  23,  24, 
50,  51,  66;  S.   Maria  in  Vanzo, 
church  of,  96;  S.  Massimo,  church 
of,  96;  S.  Michele,  church  of,  96; 
Mincllo,  G.,  69;  Miretto,  Zuan,  56; 
moats,  25,  26,  27,  28,  59,  60;  Mon- 
tagna,  B.,  96;  Monte  di  Pieta,  34; 
Morone,   A.,   89;   Museo  Civico, 
82-85;    Orto    Botanico,    80,    81; 
Padovano,  Giusto,  22,  57;  Pado- 
vanino,  36,  93,  95;  Palazzo  Cav- 
alli,  48;  Palazzo  del  Capitanio,  31, 

32,  34;  Palazzo  Giustinian,  92; 
Palladio,  32;  Palma  Giovane,  90, 
96;  Palma  Vecchio,  82,  95;  Parodi, 
73,  91;  Pironi,  G.,  72;  Petrarch, 

21,  30,  33,  35,  47;  Piazza  dei 
Frutti,  36,  57;  Piazza  del  Duomo, 

33,  34;  Piazza  delle  Erbe,  36,  55; 
Piazza  Unita  d'ltalia  (deiSignori), 
9;  S.  Pietro,  church  of,  95;  Pisano, 
Giovanni,  22,  46;  Pisano,  Niccolo, 

22,  65;  Pizzolo,  Niccolo,  50,  52; 
plain  of,  25,  26;  Ponte  Molino, 
26,    30;    Pordenone,    84;    Porta 


INDEX 


597 


Altinate,  27;  Porta  Portello,  96; 
Porta  S.  Giovanni,  96;  Porta 
Savonarola,  96;  Prato  della  Valle, 
85,  87;  Previtali,  85;  S.  Prosdo- 
cimo,  88,89,  90;Reggia  Carrarese, 
31,  33;  Riccio,  A.,  69,  75,  77,  89, 
96;  Ridol6,  Bart.,  92,  93;  Rocca- 
bonella,  Pietro,  tomb  of,  96;  Ro- 
man Forum,  32,  37,  82;  Roman- 
ino,  84;  Salone,  17,  22,  36,  47,  55; 
Sammicheli,  68;  Sansovino,  J.,  37, 
53,  69,  72;  Santi,  Andriolo  de',  47, 
69;  Scala,  della,  the,  19;  Schia- 
vone,  36;  Scrovegno,  Enrico,  38, 
39,  46;  Scuola  del  Santo,  79; 
Scuola  S.  Roeco,  95;  Squarcione, 
23,  24,  50,  51,  77;  Tasso,  Tor- 
quato,  21;  Tiepolo,  85,  96;  Tin- 
toretto, 84;  Titian,  80,  83,  84,  94, 
95;  University,  17,  20,  21,  37,  52- 
55,  86,  87;  University,  library  of, 
33;  Venetian  Lion,  31,  32;  Vene- 
tian rule,  20;  Veronese,  Paolo,  85, 
91,  90;  \ "wi  Dante,  26,  29,  30,  31; 
Via  Garibaldi,  28,  29,  37;  Viseonti, 
Gian  Galeazzo,  19,  20;  Vittorio 
Emanuele  II,  statue  of,  34;  walls 
of,  26,  27,  29,  30;  Zilie  (by  Zilio, 
and  his  fate),  59,  60. 

Palladio,  Andrea,  10,  12,  32,  107, 
IDS,  110,  114,  115,  117,  118,  120, 
121,  120,  1*7,  128,  180,  131,  132, 
L88,  184,  186,  210,  *M,  l-:i7. 

Palma  Gi.iviin.-.  !»<>.  95,  17.'5,  198, 
202,  811,  212,  268,  800,  804,  311, 
812,  S18. 

Palma  Vecchio,  82,  95,  l»»7.  124,  198, 
2l.'i.  811,  110,  147,  418,  554, 
055, 

Pampaloni,  189. 

Panetti,  Domeoico,  550. 

Parodi,  78,  91. 

Paterani,  led  of,  so.s. 

Patriarch!  of  Vquileia,  *rr  Aquileia. 
mi  life,  98,  99,  216,  169,  ■"•'  I, 
008,  578  ',7.r,. 

Pclasgiati  r«-li< ■-.  ~>i!>- 


Pellegrino  da  S.  Daniele,  276,  284, 

303,  306,  307,  308,  319. 
Pensabene,  210. 
Pepin,  330,  331. 
Perugino,  410. 
Pesehiera,  431,  432.  ' 
Petrarch,  21,  30,  33,  35,  47,  372,  570, 

571,  572,  577,  579-585. 
Piave,  the,  138,  177,  214,  215,  224. 
Piazza,  Calista,  468. 
Piazza-life,  182-184. 
Pindemonte,  344. 
Piombo,  Sebastiano  del,  208,  555. 
Pironi,  G.,  72,  116,  118. 
Pisanello,  344,  345,  367,  409. 
Pisani,  the,  6,  11,  14,  516. 
Pisano,  Giovanni,  22,  46. 
Pisano,  Niccolo,  22,  65. 
Pizzolo,  N.,  50,  52. 
Plagues,  343,  349. 
Plain,    description    of,    15,    97-100, 

215,  216,  259,  260,  501-503,  572, 

576. 
Pliny,  344. 

Polesine,  canals  of,  501. 
Polesine,  history  of,  497-501. 
Police  of  Venetia,  282,  436. 
Pompei,  Conti  and  Castle  of,  414. 
Popular  rule,  158,  482. 
Pordenone:  Bassano,  L.,  268;  Dario, 

2(19;  Duomo,  267;  Fogolino,  207; 

history,  260,  261;  II  Pordenone, 

life  of,  261,  202,  paintings  <>f,  265- 

270;     Palazzo     Municipal.-,     263; 

picture  gallery,  268;  town  of,  260; 

Varotari,  A.  (Padovanino),  268. 
Pordenone,  11.81,  150,  176,  187,  191, 

207.  240,  248,  281   268,  265-270, 

277,  280.  281,  285,  290,  291,  296, 

801,  -'502,  806,  056. 
PoaiagnO)  town  "f,  150. 
Prato,  Francesco  da,  186. 
Previtali,  B5,  255. 

Quadrilateral,  848,  4:i2,  601. 
Quiriciui  <!<•  Joanes    d'  Alemagna, 


508 


INDEX 


Radetsky,  Marshal,  105,  135,  136. 

Raphael,  490. 

Recoaro,  I'M- 

Retrone  river,  109. 

Riccio,  Andrea,  69,  75,  89,  96,  399. 

Ridolfi,  Hart.,  92. 

Risorgimento,  105,  119,  134,  136, 
19-2,  S93,  427-429. 

Ristori,  Adelaide,  321,  393. 

Rivers  and  dikes  of  Veneto,  224,  225, 
259,  280. 

Roads  of  Venetia,  234,  235. 

Roggia  Canal,  277,  278,  279,  300, 
303. 

Romanino,  Girolamo,  84,  377,  430, 
447,  448,  463,  467,  478,  479,  486, 
490. 

Romeo  and  Juliet,  332,  337,  346; 
tomb  of,  396. 

Romilda,  274. 

Rosamund,  329,  330. 

Rovigo:  Aecademia  dei  Concordi, 
540;  Badile,  A.,  555,  556;  Basaiti, 
555;  Belli,  M.,  555;  Bellini,  Gen- 
tile, 554;  Bellini,  Giovanni,  554; 
Bonifazio,  555;  Cariani,  Giovanni, 
551;  Carpaecio,  554;  Carpi,  Giro- 
lamo, 551;  Casa  Barufi,  553,  557; 
Cathedral,  547,  548;  Cima  da 
Conegliano,  549,  550,  554;  citadel, 
548;  Domenichino,  556;  Dossi, 
Dosso,  556;  S.  Francesco,  church 
of ,  549 ;  Garof  alo,  551 ;  Gianpetrino, 
556;  Giorgione,  555;  history,  540- 
542;  Holbein,  Jan,  556;  hotel,  542; 
La  Rotonda,  552;  Luca  von  Ley- 
den,  556;  Mabuse,  Jan,  556;  Man- 
tegna,  556;  Naviglio  Adigetto, 
540,  543,  547,  548;  Palazzo  Com- 
unale,  545;  Palazzo  Roncalli,  544; 
Palma  Vecchio,  554;  Panetti, 
Domenico,  550;  Piazza  del  Cas- 
tello,  548;  Piazza  Garibaldi,  547, 
549;  Piazza  Venti  Settembre,  552; 
Piazza  Vittorio  Emanuele,  545; 
picture  gallery,  553-556;  Porde- 
none,  555;  Porta  S.  Bartolommeo, 


547;  Quiricius  d'Alemagna,  554; 
Sammicheli,  544;  von  Schwaz, 
Hans,  556;  Sebastianoidel  l'iombo, 
555;  situation,  540;  Tiepolo,  555; 
Tintoretto,  555;  Titian,  555;  Uni- 
versita  Popolare,  546;  Valentina, 
Jacopo,  556;  Venetian  Lion,  545; 
Vivarini,  Bart.,  554;  Vivarini, 
Luigi,  554;  Zuccari,  Federigo,  556. 

Salvatore,  S.,  castle:  Colalti,  the, 
236,  241,  242;  description  of,  236- 
243;  history  of,  236;  legend  of, 
238,  239;  paintings  of  Pordenone, 
240. 

Sammicheli,  Michele,  68,  342,  358, 
369,  381,  382,  384,  389,  390,  394, 
513,  514,  544;  tomb  of,  404. 

Sansovino,  Jacopo,  37,  53,  67,  72, 
192,  437,  489. 

Santi,  Andreolo  de\  47,  69. 

Savoldo,  G.,  210,  211,  405,  491. 

Seal  a,  Can  Grande  della,  103,  139, 
178,  261,  335-337,  411,  412,  413, 
414,  421,  530,  541. 

Scala,  the  della,  19,  103,  139,  179, 
226,  261,  333-341,  347,  411,  412, 
416,  421,  500,  530,  541.  See  also 
Verona. 

Scamozzi,  Vincenzo,  107,  111,  114, 
129. 

Schiavone,  36. 

Schio,  town  of,  137. 

Serravalle  (see  Ceneda):  albergo, 
245,  249;  Amalteo,  248;  art  of, 
248;  aspect,  246;  Basaiti,  248,  251; 
Bosco  del  Consiglio,  258;  Brandolin 
Castle,  258;  Carpaecio,  248; 
castle,  247;  Duomo,  247,  248,  249, 
252;  excursions  from,  258;  Fiore, 
Jacobello  del,  251;  Frizimelaga, 
Francesco,  251;  S.  Giovanni  Bat- 
tista,  church  of,  250;  history,  248; 
S.  Lorenzo,  church  of,  251;  main 
streets,  246,  249;  Milano,  Fran- 
cesco da,  248,  251;  Palazzo  Muni- 
cipale,  247;  situation  245;  Titian, 


INDEX 


599 


248,  249;  Valentina,  J.  da,  248, 
251 ;  Venetian  Lion,  248;  walk  out- 
side the  gates,  249,  250. 

Sforza,  Francesco,  424. 

Sforzas,  the,  444-420. 

Shakespeare,  332,  337. 

Shops  of  Venetia,  375,  481. 

Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  21. 

Sirmione,  415,  432. 

Soave,  347,  411-414. 

Socialism,  spread  of,  158,  481,  482. 

Solferino,  416. 

Speranza,  Giovanni,  106. 

Speri,  Tito,  428,  429,  442,  492,  494. 

Squarcione,  23,  24,  50,  51. 

Steno,  Michele,  4. 

Stra.  Palace  of,  6,  11,  12-15. 

Susegana,  church  of,  243;  village  of, 
235;  Pordenone,  243. 

Tagliamento  river,  280. 
Tasso,  Torquato,  21. 
Theodolinda,  330,  349. 
Theodoric  the  Great,  224,  273,  324, 

327,  328,  348,  378,  379,  380,  559. 
Theodosius,  459,  401. 
Thiene,  town  of,  137. 
Thorvaldsen,  489. 
Tiepoli,  the,  99. 
Tiepolo,  G.  B.,  14,  85,  96,  136,  285, 

298,  299,  304,  313,  555. 
Tintoretto,  84,  125,  213,  305,  470, 

555. 
Titian,  80,  83,  84,  95,  190,  214,  248, 

2  Hi.  258  *•"<•">,  870,  471,  484,  555. 
Tolnn/./<i,  Domenico  da,  270,  2SI. 
Tommaao  da  Modena,  180,  205.  200, 

207,  20S,  200,  212. 
Torbido,  845,  310,370,  410. 
Torcello,  :t. 
Torn-  river,  277,  808. 

Tramway  lyitemi,   ls3. 

Tregnano,  8*7,  »15. 

Trento,  L54. 

Xreviso:  8.  \  ">•  ■••.  church  <>f,  208; 

AJberic,    178;  Amalteo,    191;  B. 

Andna,  church  "f,  200;  Antonio 


da  Treviso.  208;  art  of,  179,  180; 
bands,  Italian  (music),  183;  Bas- 
sano,  F.,  212;  Bassano,  L.,  213; 
Bellini,  Giovanni,  198,  200,  209, 
213;  Bevilacqua,  200;  Biblioteca, 
203;  Bissolo,  192;  Bordone,  Paris, 
180,  190,  191,  192,  213;  Botteniga 
river,  179,  180,  182,  194,  198,  201; 
Botteniga  and  Sile,  confluence  of, 
201;  Bregni,  the,  191;  cafe  and 
cafe  life,  183;  cafes,  182, 184;  Cam- 
pagna,  G.,  212;  Casa  Alessandrini, 
187;  Casa  Lezze  Casellati,  197; 
S.  Cristina,  213;  Dante,  monu- 
ment to,  201;  Dario,  180;  Duomo, 

188,  189,  202;  Ezzelino,  178;  Fra 
Giocondo  of  Verona,  193;  Gior- 
gione,  186;  Girolamo  da  Treviso, 
180,  191;  S.  Gregorio,  church  of, 
202;  history,  178,  179;  hospital, 
198;  hotel,  181;  Lombardi,  the, 
190,  191,  209;  Lombardo,  Pietro, 

189,  191;  Lotto,  Lorenzo,  180, 
213;  S.  Lucia,  church  of,  186; 
Marconi,  Rocco,  180;  S.  Maria 
Maddalena,  church  of,  195;  S. 
Maria  Maggiore,  church  of,  197; 
moat,  180,  181,  194;  Monte  di 
Pieta,  186;  Municipio,  193;  Museo 
Comunale,  203-206;  S.  Niceolo, 
church  of,  206-212;  Olivi,  Giu- 
seppe, house  of,  192;  Onigo,  Count 
Antonio,  palazzo,  200,  tomb  of, 
209;  Palma  Giovane,  198,  202, 
211,  212;  Palma  Vecchio,  198, 
213;  Pennachi,  Pietro.  ISO;  Pensa- 
bene,  I'ra  Marco,  210;  Piazza  dei 
Signori,  181,  1S2-1S4.  187,  212; 
piastt  1  i f « - ,  1S2  [84;  Piazza  Pola, 
202;  picture  gallery,  213;  plan  <>f, 

lso;   Pordenone,   1H7,   101,   197, 

207;    Porta    CaVOUT,    203;    Porta 

Ma//ini.  106;  Porta  S.Toma,  196; 
Ponaearetto.187;  Prefettura,  1H2, 

184,  IS.'),  1S7;  rampart-walk,  with 

view,  LQ8,  L04,  i '.»•"'.  196;  Banjo- 

vino,    192;   Savoldo,   210;   Scbas- 


GOO 


INDEX 


ti.mo  del  Piombo,  208;  Sile  river, 
179,  181,  182,  201;  situation,  178; 
suburb,  194;  Tintoretto,  213; 
Titian,  191,  197;  Tommaso  da 
Modena.  180,  206,  207,  212;  tribu- 
nal, 189;  Vecellio,  Marco,  186, 
212;  Veronese,  Paolo,  195,  213; 
Yescovado,  189;  Via  Cornarotta, 
193;  Via  Regina,  200;  Via  Venti 
Settembre,  181,  182;  Via  Vittorio 
Emanuele,  181,  182;  S.  Vito, 
church  of,  186;  walls,  180,  193. 

Udine:  Amalteo,  277,  284,  291,  292, 
303;  archbishop,  and  palace,  298, 
301;  art  of,  276;  Attila,  272; 
Banca  d'ltalia,  305;  Beata  Yir- 
gine  delle  Grazie,  church  of,  297; 
Bellunello,  Andrea,  276,  284; 
Carnio,  A.,  277;  Casa  di  Respar- 
mio,  304;  castle,  272,  278,  286, 
287,  293,  294;  castle  archway,  293; 
Cormor  river,  277;  Duomo,  282; 
gallery  of  paintings,  295,  296;  S. 
Giacomo,  church  of,  292;  Giar- 
dino  Pubblico,  298,  300;  Giovanni 
da  Udine,  277,  291,  298,  299,  306; 
Girolamo  da  Udine,  277,  284,  295; 
Giuseppini,  F.,  296;  Grassi,  291; 
history  of,  271-275,  278;  hotel, 
280;  library,  city,  295,  304,  305; 
Martini,  Giovanni,  276,  284,  291 ; 
Mcrcato  Nuovo,  292;  Mercato 
Vecchio,  279,  292;  moat,  298,  300, 
303;  museum  of  sculpture,  294; 
Palladio,  293;  Palazzo  Bartolini, 
304;  Palazzo  Caiselli,  305;  Pal- 
azzo Municipale,  288-292;  Pal- 
azzo Tinghi,  301 ;  Palma  Giovane, 
300,  304;  Patriarchs,  274,  275, 
278,  298,  299;  Pellegrino,  276,  284, 
303,  308;  Piazza  d'Armi,  279,  297; 
Piazza  Garibaldi,  302;  Piazza 
Venti  Settembre,  280,  281 ;  Piazza 
Vittorio  Emanuele,  279,  286;  S. 
Pietro,  church  of,  308;  S.  Pietro 
Martire,  church  of,  304;  plan,  278, 


279;  Pordenone,  277,  284,  285, 
290,  296,  299,  301,  302;  Porta 
Aquileia,  279,  308;  Prcfettura, 
301;  Roggia  Canal,  277,  278,  298, 
300,  303;  S.  Spirito,  church  of, 
303;  Tiepoli,  the,  285;  Tiepolo, 
G.  B.,  285,  298,  299,  304,  305; 
Tintoretto,  305;  Tolmezzo,  Do- 
menico  da,  276,  284;  Torre  river, 
277;  Venetian  Lion,  287,  288; 
Vescovado,  298,  301;  Via  Gorgni, 
300,  303;  Via  Posta,  286;  Vittorio 
Emanuele,  statue  of,  288;  walls, 
earliest,  298,  300;  walls,  Renais- 
sance, 279. 

Val  d'Asti,  137. 

Val  Sugana,  139,  146,  154. 

Valdagno,  137. 

Valeggio,  416. 

Valentina,  Jacopo  da,  248,  251,  253, 
556. 

Valentinian  III,  458,  461,  462. 

Van  Dyke,  129. 

Varotari,  Alessandro,  see  Padovan- 
ino. 

Vecellio,  Marco,  212. 

Veneziano,  Lorenzo,  24,  116. 

Venice,  history,  3-5,  20,  104,  105, 
139,  226,  274,  275,  278,  341,  342, 
424-427,  500,  541,  542. 

Venzone,  306. 

Verona:  Adige,  the,  323,  325,  347, 
348,  349,  384;  Alaric,  326;  Alboin, 
324,  329,  330;  Alcardi,  344;  Altieh- 
ieri,  344,  358,  367,  391;  Amphi- 
theatre, see  Arena;  S.  Anastasia, 
church  of,  365,  366;  Antharis,  330, 
349;  SS.  Apostoli,  church  of,  382; 
Arco  de'  Gavi,  368;  Arco  Leoni, 
396;  Arena,  328,  340,  343,  392, 
393;  art  of,  344;  Attila,  326;  Ba- 
dile,  Antonio,  346,  391,  402;  Bap- 
tistery, 371;  Bellini,  Gian,  410; 
Benaglio,  Francesco,  345,  367, 
390,  402;  Benaglio,  Girolamo,  345; 
Berengarius,  331;  S.  Bernardino, 


INDEX 


601 


church  of,  389,  390;  Bertolini,  407; 
Biblioteca  Capitolare,  372;  Boni- 
fazio,  410;  Bonino,  363;  Bonsig- 
nori,    345,    346,    390,    401,    402; 
Brusasorci,    345,    346,    371,    372, 
374,  378,  381,  383,  391,  399,  402, 
405;  Campagna,   G.,  361;  Capel- 
letti    (Capulets),    the,  332,    337, 
397;  Caroto,  345,  374,  377,  378, 
381,  390,  399,  401,  404,  409;  Car- 
rara, Francesco  della,  341;  Casa 
dei  Mercanti,  353;  Casa  dei  Moz- 
zanti,  353;  castel  S.  Pietro,  324, 
327,   348,    379;    castel    Vecchio, 
338,  380,  384;  castle  of  Blasi,  414; 
castle  of  Montorio,  411;  castle  of 
Sirmione,    415;   castle   of   Soave, 
347,   411-414;    Castle  Tregnano, 
415;  castle  of  Valeggio,  416;  castle 
of  Villafranca,  415,  416;  Catullus, 
344;    Cavazzola,    345,    366,    390, 
402,  405,  406,  409;  cemetery,  400; 
Charlemagne,  330,  331;  S.  Chiara, 
church  of,  408;    Cima  da    Cone- 
gliano,   410;   Congress   of  Sover- 
eigns,  393;   Crivelli,    Carlo,    410; 
Dante,  336,  347,  372,  411,  414, 
statue  of,  358;  D'  Avanzo,  344, 367; 
Duomo,  368-371 ;  S.  Elena,  church 
of,  371;  Ezzelino,  333,  387;  S.  Eu- 
femia,  church  of,  371,  372,  380, 
381;  Busebio  <li  S.  Giorgio,  410; 
Falconetto,   846,   860,  372,    102; 
Farinato,  846,  871,  -W-K  401,  402; 
g   Pernio,  church  of ,  340, 896  399; 
floods  ..f  the  Adige,  848,  849;  Pra 
( i i< »ci »ni i' i.  860;  Ir.i  Giovanni  da 
Verona,  W6;  Pra  Giovanni  da  \  i- 
cenza,   '■'■■'■    Prancia,  110;  Freder- 
ick II.  I;  Frederick  Bar- 
bara           ';  gallery  <>f  art,  899, 
ins  410;  Gallienus,  8£5,  888;  gar- 
dens, public,  839;  Garibaldi,  statue 
of.  865;  Garofalo,    104;  Giardini 

Giusti,        108;       <ii<>lfirin,        Nic- 

oolo,   846,    :'.<'.h,   870,    :'<*i.    :t!'<>. 
801,    105,    Km,  home    of.    882; 


Giolfino,  Paolo,  346;  S.  Giorgio  in 
Braida,   church   of,   376;   Giotto, 
336,   358;   S.   Giovanni  in  Foro, 
church  of,  381;  S.  Giovanni    in 
Valle,     church     of,     407;     Gran 
Guardia  Vecchia,  394;  Guercino, 
405;  history,  322-344;  hotel,  349; 
Justinian,  329;  Lanzani,  410;  Lib- 
erale,  345,  353,  356,  368,  370,  373, 
399,   404,    409;    Libri,    Girolamo 
dai,  345,  353,  355,  366,  376,  400, 
402,  404,  407,  409;  S.    Lorenzo, 
church  of,  383;  Macer,  iEinilius, 
344;  Maffei,  Scipione,  344,  395, 
statue    of,    359;    Mansueti,    410; 
Mantegna,    367,    371,    388,    410; 
S.  Maria  Antica,  church  of,  361; 
S.  Maria  della  Scala,  church  of, 
391;  S.  Maria  in  Organo,  church 
of,   404-407;   S.   Maria  Matricu- 
lata,  371,  372;  Martini  of  Verona, 
344,  3C7,  399;  Michele  da  Verona, 
368;    moat,    the    Visconti,    396; 
Montagna,  Bart.,  402;  Montagues, 
the,secMoutecchi;Montecchi,the, 
332,  337,  346;  Moretto,  377,  381, 
402,  410;  Morone,  Francesco,  345, 
390, 391, 405, 406, 409,  410;  Museo 
(ivico,    408-410;    Museo    Lapi- 
dario,  395;  Napoleon  the  Great, 
343,  393;  Narses,  329;  SS.   Naz- 
zaro  e  Celso,  401,  402;  Odoacer, 
326,     327;     Palazzo     Bcvilacqua, 
382;  Palazzo  Canossa,  884;  Pal- 
azzo dei  Canonici,  .'17^;  Palazzo 
dei  Giuriconsulti,  856,  859;  Pal- 
azzo '1.1  Consiglio,  856,  860,  861; 
Palazzo  del  Tribunale,  856,  857; 
Palazzo  della  Poata,  865;  Palazzo 
Maffei,  854;  Palazzo  Municipale, 
898;   Palazzo  Pompei,  899;   Pal- 
azzo Poiizoiii.  3K2;     PalaSSO   Ka- 
gione,    :t."»:!.    856,    857;    Palazzo 
ZambonL873;Palma  Vecchio,  410; 
S.  Paolo  di  <  ampo  Marzo,  church 
of,  win;  Paterani,  massacre  of  the, 
808;  Pepin,  880;  Perugino,   110; 


602 


INDEX 


Petrarch,  :i72;  Piazza  Bra,  352, 
392.  ;!!>:!;  Piazza  Brolo,  374;  Pi- 
:i//;i  dei  Signori,  356;  Piazza  dell' 
Independenza.  365;  Piazza  delle 
Erbe,  349,  355;  Piazza  Vittorio 
Emanuele,  see  Piazza  Bra;  S. 
Pietro  Martire,  church  of,  365; 
Pinacoteca,  408-410;  Pinde- 
monte,  344;  Pisanello,  344,  367, 
398,  409;  plagues  of  Venetia,  343, 
349;  Pliny,  344;  Pompei,  Conti, 
414;  Pompei,  the  poet,  344;  Pom- 
ponius  Secundus,  344;  Ponte 
Aleardi,  395,  400;  Ponte  delle 
Navi,  338,  339,  347,  374,  397; 
Ponte  di  Pietra,  374,  379;  Ponte 
Garibaldi,  376;  Porta  Borsari, 
382;  Porta  Nuova,  394,395;  Porta 
S.  Bernardino,  389;  Porta  S.  Zeno, 
389,  394;  Porta  Vescovo,  325,  347; 
Portoni,  the,  394,  395;  Prefettura, 

356,  358;  Riccio,  399;  Risorgi- 
mento,  343,  393;  Roman  baths 
and  mosaics,  372;  Roman  theatre, 
379,  408;  Romanino,  377;  Ro- 
mano, Giulio,  370;  Romeo  and 
Juliet,  332,  337,  346,  tomb  of, 
396;  Rosamund,  329,  330;  Saints 
Fermo  and  Rustica,  328,  393; 
Sammicheli,  342,  358,  369,  381, 
382,  384,  389,  390,  394,  tomb  of, 
404;  Sansovino,  370;  Savoldo, 
405;  Scala,  della,  333-341,  356, 
tombs  of,  361-364;  Scala,  Alberto 
della,  334,  353;  Scala,  Alboino 
della,  334,  335;  Scala,  Antonio  del- 
la, 339,  340,  341;  Scala,  Bartolom- 
meo  della,  335,  340,  358;  Scala, 
Can  Grande  della,  335-337,  358, 
tomb  of,  362,  363;  Scala,  Can 
Grande  II  della,  338,  384;  Scala, 
Consignorio  della,  338,  339,  354, 

357,  tomb  of,  362,  363;  Scala, 
Mastino  della,  333,  334,  358,  359, 
393;  Scala,  Mastino  II  della,  337, 
tomb  of,  362,  363,  364;  Scaligers, 
the,   tombs  of,   361-364;  Shake- 


speare, 332,  337;  SS.  Siro  e  Libera, 
church  of,  408;  situation,  322, 
323;  S.  Stefano,  church  of,  378, 
379;  Teatro  Filarmone,  395;  Theo- 
dolinda,  330,  349;  Theodoric  the 
Great,  324,  327,  348,  379;  Titian, 
370;  tomb  of  Count  of  Castel- 
barco,  365 ;  tombs  of  the  Scaligers, 
361-364;  S.  Tommaso  Cantuari- 
ense,  403;  Torbido,  345,  370,  399, 
410;  Torre  Lamberti,  353;  Tri- 
buna,  354;  Venetian  Lion,  354; 
Venetian  rule,  341-343;  Veronese, 
Paolo,  346,  361,  377,  400,  409, 
410,  statue  of,  365;  Veronese  Ves- 
pers, 343;  Veronetto,  324,  375, 
401,  403;  Vescovado,  373;  Via 
Nuova,  352;  Via  PontePietra,  375; 
Victor  Emmanuel  II,  entry  of, 
344,  393,  statue  of,  394;  Visconti, 
Gian  Galeazzo,  335,  341;  Volto 
Barbaro,  334,  359;  wall,  the  Vis- 
conti, 324,  352,  394;  walls,  Re- 
naissance, of  Sammicheli,  324,  342, 
376,  389,  394,  395;  walls,  Roman, 
324,  328,  382,  392,  397;  S.  Zeno, 
328,  349,  church  of,  385-389; 
Zevio,  Stefano  da,  345,  367,  377, 
379,  399,  407. 

Veronese,  Paolo,  85,  91,  96, 125, 126, 
135,  137,  172,  195,  213,  218-222, 
346,  361,  377,  400,  401,  409,  410, 
470,  568. 

Vespasian,  325,  449,  450. 

Vicenza:  art  of,  106-109;  Arco  delle 
Scalette,  134;  Bacchiglione,  the, 
109;  Banca  Populare,  131;  Basil- 
ica, 108,  117-120,  122;  Bassano, 
J.,  130,  131;  Bassano,  L.,  126; 
Bellini,  Giovanni,  126,  130;  Buon- 
consiglio,  G.,  106,  132;  Calderari, 
107,131;  Campagnola,  Dom.,  129; 
Casa  Pigafetti,  123;  Cima  da 
Conegliano,  107,  130;  S.  Corona, 
church  of,  125;  Corso  Porti,  132; 
D'Azelio,  Massimo,  106;  Domeni- 
chino,     129;     Duomo,     115-117; 


INDEX 


603 


Ezzelino,    101,     102;     Episcopal 
palace,  116;  Fasolo,  121;  Fogaz- 
zaro,  A.,  107;  Fogolino,  125;  Fra 
Giovanni,  101,  102;  Fromentone, 
Tommaso,    107,    116;    gallery    of 
art,  129;  Girolamo  del  Toso,  130; 
history,    100-106;    Jones,    Inigo, 
108;  S.  Lorenzo,  church  of,  132; 
Madonna  del  Monte,  134;  Manteg- 
na,  Andrea,    106;   Mocetto,   130; 
Monte  Berici,  100,  105,  106,  120, 
133,    134,  135;  Montagna,  Bart., 
106, 116,  126, 130,  135;  Montagna, 
tomb  of,  132;  Monte  di  PietA,  120; 
Museo  (  ivico,  129;  Palazzo  Bo- 
nin,    111;   Palazzo   Braschi,    113; 
Palazzo  Chieregati,  114;    Palazzi 
Colleoni,  132;  Palazzo  da  Schio, 
114;  Palazzo  del  Capitanio,  121; 
Palazzo  del  Conte  Porto  alCastello, 
110;  Palazzo  Loschi,  112;  Palazzo 
Porto-Barbarano,     132;     Palazzo 
Quirini,  113;  Palazzo  Thiene,  113, 
132;     Palazzo    Yalmarana,    132; 
Palladio.  Andrea,  107,  108,  110, 
114,  117,  118,  120,  121,  127,  131, 
132,  133,  134;  Palladio,  tomb  and 
statue    of,    125;    Palma   Vecchio, 
107,  124;  Piazza  dei  Signori,  117; 
Piazza  <1.  He  Erbe,  122,  bridge  of, 
123;    Picutti,    129;    Pironi,    Giro- 
lamo,   72,     II (I,     118;    Ponte    S. 
Mi.  !,.]<•,  133;  Porta  Castello,  110; 
Porta  del  Luzzo,  188;  Porto,  Conte 
Orazio,    129;    Retrone,  tli<-.   no, 
S,    Rocco,   church  of.   132; 
Scamozzi,  \  ..   107,  ill,  ill,  129; 
!K.//i,  tomb  of,  182;  situation, 
100;  Spenazi,  Giovanni,  L06,  125; 


S.  Stefano,  church  of,  124;  Teatro 
Olympico,  115,  127;  Tintoretto, 
125;  Titian,  130;  trip  to,  97-100; 
Van  Dyke,  129;  Venetian  Lion, 
120;  Venetian  rule,  104;  Vene- 
ziano,  Lorenzo,  116;  Veronese, 
Paolo,  125,  135;  Via  Garibaldi, 
117;  S.  Vieenzo,  church  of,  122; 
Villa  of  Marchese  Salvi,  113; 
Villa  Rotonda,  136;  Viti,  Timoteo, 
130;  Vittorio  Emanuele,  tomb  of, 
116;  Zanella,  G.,  statue  of,  132. 

Villa  Cordellina,  137. 

Villa  Giacomelli,  214,  216-223. 

Villa  S.  Salvatore,  235,  236. 

Villafranca,  416. 

Villages  of  the  Plain,  97-99,  503. 

Vine  culture,  502,  573-576. 

Visconti,  Gian  Galeazzo,  19,  20,  103, 
139,  261,  341,  422,  423,  437. 

Visconti,   the,   103,   139,   261,   341, 
421-426. 

Viti,  Timoteo,  130,  490. 

Vittoria,  Alessandro,  214,  219,  220. 

Vittorio,  town  of,  see  Ceneda  aad 
Serravalle. 

Vivarini,  Bartolommeo,  554. 

Yivarini,  Luigi,  554. 

Wine-presses  of  the  streets,  479,  480. 
Wines  of  Venetia,  tee  Vine  culture. 
Wormser,  General,  139. 
Wotton,  Sir  Henry,  11,  90. 

Zelotti.  Battista,  137,  568. 

Zevio,   Stefano  da,  345,   367,   377, 

379,  899,  kit. 
Zoppo,  Paolo,  429,  156,  189. 

Zuceari,  !•'<•< lerigo,  556. 


@be  fiilierjs'ibe  prc#tf 

CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U    .    S    .    A 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA   LIBRARY 
Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


47  584 


UB^Rl\fiHU\\\ 


F^rf. 


ucsooiaSffii 


W  000  686276    7 


